The Ice Demon and the Spider
by Lizardbeth J
Summary: When Loki and Thor's recklessness gets them exiled to Midgard, Loki finds himself back in Arendelle. But his arrival has attracted attention of a foreign military, something called SHIELD, and this time he vows to protect this kingdom from the invaders. Meanwhile Thor finds out the truth of what happened nearly seventy years ago, just as an old evil rouses.
1. Prologue

This is the next story in my Ice Demon AU 'verse.

1\. The Snow Queen and the Ice Demon

2\. The Ice Demon and the Snow Princess

3\. The Ice Demon and the Hydra

4\. The Ice Demon and the Spider (this story)

This story takes place almost 70 years after Ice Demon/Hydra (and centuries after the first two), so they aren't vital to the plot. However, various things are referenced from previous stories, and of course, they're helpful for understanding how Loki (and Thor), are different from their regular MCU selves.

As Ice Demon/Hydra was the story of WWII and the Howling Commandos and how Loki found a place with them, this is the timeline of Thor the Movie (the Iron Man movies occur the same). It starts in familiar territory but this is a different 'verse, despite some similarities.

This is gen, featuring Loki, Thor, Natasha, Clint, and the general ensemble of the Thor movie, as well as SHIELD, and Tony Stark. It's also a bit of a crossover with Frozen, using Arendelle as a country that exists in this 'verse (see the Snow Queen and Ice Demon, where the characters crossover).

It's about 60K, will post in installments. Now off we go!

.

* * *

 **PROLOGUE**

 **.**

Loki slipped through the paths to Vanaheim, arriving in the Shadow Valley, so called because it was in the shadow of the massive wings of the greatest dragon left alive in the nine realms.

Climbing up the rock face of the east slope, Loki approached her lair, not disguising his approach.

As he climbed, the weight of her magic was tangible on his skin and other senses, growing oppressive as if he was swimming deeper beneath the water. They were friends, but only as much as she wanted to be, and Loki was careful to remember that she could kill him in an instant, if she chose.

The ledge was scored deeply with a thousand thousand claw marks of landings as he left the narrow defile and approached the opening of the cavern. There was Svafnir, the eldest of the dreki of old.

" _Greetings, small Jotunn_." Her 'voice' was only in his mind, the words landing there as if they had always been there.

He winced, and he could sense her puzzlement. " _You still let the truth be a weapon against you; that is foolish_."

"It is," he agreed aloud, as he conjured a small green fire in the tunnel of her lair though he probably knew the way without it. The stone was smooth, the height arched to keep it strong. "Yet it is a blade that cuts, nonetheless."

" _Then you must make your hide tougher, or the blade more dull_ ," she told him, which was true advice, except the secret preyed on his heart, and there was little he could do about that. Telling himself the truth didn't matter had yet to dull the blade when it struck.

" _Long has it been since you have sought me out._ "

"Not so long," he protested, but realized he hadn't visited since Midgard. So it had been awhile. "I hadn't realized... I would have come sooner. I was... busy."

"So I have seen," Svafnir's tone was dry. "I have watched you and Odinson scurrying like mice up and down Yggdrasil."

That wasn't a very complimentary comparison, but probably not unfair. They had been a great many places in the Nine and even beyond, in recent years. Thor wanted excitement and battle, and Loki wanted distraction, so it suited them to adventure together as they had in their youth.

He emerged into the great hall where she lay, a great shadow among other shadows until all at once magelights sprang into being all around the circumference. Here she was the spider in the center of the web, able to sense every entry into her domain. The mountain itself was her fortress, but the land around it scarcely less so.

Her great bulk lay curled up, belly warmed by the fiery heart of the mountain beneath the stones. Black as night, only the tips of the spikes along her back and tail glimmered, and her eyes, turned toward him like twin moons of silver. Her long tail twitched and moved, restless as a cat's, but her wings tucked along her body to make a shape both sinuous and wicked.

" _Seek you more lessons, young one_?" she asked.

"No, not lessons." He didn't flatter himself that he'd learned all she could teach him, but days of lessons were past. But now that he was here, he didn't want to admit he'd come merely to escape the tedium of preparations for Thor's coronation. He forced a smile at her. "I thought it was time to visit my second-favorite lady in all the Realms."

She yawned, displaying her dagger-like teeth. " _Second-favorite_?"

"After my mother. You would not begrudge my favoring of her?"

" _For Queen Frigga? No_." She moved her head to nudge him. " _Your spirit is troubled. Kill it and eat it if it gives you trouble. Deer and hunters alike_."

He grinned at her humor. "Oh, if only I could." His smile faded. "They irritate me so, Svafnir. The All-father. My fool of a brother."

She pondered. " _You seemed... friendly, with your brother. When you were here last_."

"We are friendly," Loki agreed. "That makes him no less of a war-mongering idiot. Father- the All-father- intends to make him king. King." He snorted and shook his head. "He thinks only of glory and fighting. When he is king, he will listen to no one, and do only as he wills."

" _Listen to no one, or not to you_?" Svafnir asked him.

The point struck, forcing Loki to consider whether the question had truth in it. "He rarely listens to anyone now; I cannot imagine he will do so more as king. But of course the All-father doesn't see it. He's never seen any flaw in Thor, why would he start now? No one does. Whatever cautions I give, they all think I scheme for the throne myself. As if I don't know it lies outside my grasp," he spat in sudden fury. "As if I did not spend a century on Midgard because I knew it would never be mine."

" _Do you wish the throne_?" she asked curiously. " _You were less ambitious when last you were here_."

Caught by the question, he opened his mouth to say of course he did, better him than Thor, but he let out a breath and let the words die, unspoken. His shoulders relaxed. "I was, wasn't I? I don't know that I want it now. But it angers me that he is so _poorly_ suited for it, and Odin will give it to him because they share blood."

Blood which Loki didn't share, whatever he might appear to be and whatever was claimed in public. Blood which meant he would never rule Asgard, even should Odin and Thor both drop dead. He was not a fool; those who knew would not keep silent about the secret Jotunn. The truth would come out, and they would kill the foul creature who dared sit on the throne of Asgard.

He knew that. It was a truth that had settled on him long ago, when they had revealed the truth to him, which made it sting no less now than it had then. His place in Asgard was borrowed, and when the truth came out, it would end. Thor and Frigga liked to pretend otherwise, but they liked to think Asgard was a better place than it truly was.

Loki sat on the warm stone and when she gave a low rumble of approval, he scooted next to her, to lean against her side. He let out a deep breath to try to relax. "But why should I care? Asgard has so little interest in me. None of them understand the least bit about what I do, and they all hate what I am, even if they don't know it. So let the fools have a fool for a king. They deserve it."

They were his people by deceit, and he had little love for those whose caring would vanish in a puff of smoke if the deception was broken. Thor and Frigga had tried to direct the hate away, but they had only shoved it beneath the surface. Loki poked at it occasionally, easily provoking disgust and aggression against Frost Giants.

He held out a hand, examining the pale Aesir skin there. Real, yet not real. What he wanted to be, yet was not. Svafnir was right that he needed to make that truth less a weapon against him, but how could he do that when the truth was so monstrous?

Yet Svafnir was considering greater things. She blew a puff of sulfurous, warm air through her nostrils. " _I watch the Nine_ ," she responded. " _Asgard tries to herd the sheep of the other Realms. But the sheep grow restless and some grow claws and fangs in shadows unseen. Without Asgard to pen them in, they surely will grow._ "

He considered that. "Odin, and Bor before him, claimed they are 'protecting' the other Realms, but truly they mean dominion. What protection does Asgard truly offer but the threat of our warriors' boredom and mass slaughter if they revolt? That is not protection. Tyranny some would call it."

He remembered the discussions late at night, with Steven and James, and he remembered his own experience at the hands of unquestioned tyranny: torture and horror and nightmares that lingered still, despite his best efforts to forget. Asgard was not so terrible as Schmidt and his fellow Nazis, but that did not make them good either. Midgard was free because they had not achieved enough technology to need 'protection'. But Vanaheim had been protected for two thousand years, and all knew what had happened when Svartalfheim objected to their protected status.

He snorted. "They might be better off without Gungnir on their necks. Or Mjolnir."

Svafnir said, " _And yet the universe tends to chaos. The absence of order is disorder, and many will perish when the hungry scramble for power_."

Loki had seen as much on Midgard. Small scale or large, the result was the same, but he still shook his head. "Should they not sort it out themselves? Is that truly our problem?"

She lifted her head to twist around her neck and fix him with a great eye. " _Yet it may become your problem if power that was once in your hand, collects in the hand of another. There are forces without, who do not claim to protect. They seek domination and power only._ "

"So you're saying..."

" _Nothing you did not already know I would advise. Chaos favors only the strong, young one_."

He let out a sigh. Now that she'd told him the opposite, he realized he had been hoping she would confirm his impulse to do nothing. Let Thor take the throne. Let him get Asgard into a war. It was what all the warriors wanted in their ignorance of what real war was like. They thought their little skirmishes were war. Let them learn what true war was. They were going to experience glorious war and death in battle just as they'd always wanted. Then when the fields were awash in blood, let them plead for magic to save them, and Loki would smile and wish them speedy voyage to Valhalla.

He wanted to be that vindictive, and to teach them all a lesson that there was no glory in battle, only suffering and death.

But she was right. As much as he despised Asgard's attitude, it would be worse if it were allowed to grow unfettered, as it surely would with Thor as King. War would come to the Nine and the other Realms would fall to chaos.

The irony did not escape him. "You know what the Midgardians say of me?" he asked idly. "It's all very poetic, but in the end, it will all burn in fire, because of me. So maybe it's not Thor; maybe it's me."

" _Mortal prophecy_ ," Svafnir's snort let him know what she thought of that. She nudged him with her furled wing, nearly knocking him over. " _Tell me when it begins. I enjoy fire_."

He laughed and patted her neck. "You and I shall be quite fearsome as we burn Yggdrasil to the root and begin again."

More seriously she added, " _Eitri called council after you fled Nidavellir. There was nearly war then_."

"I know. Heimdall saw." He sat up, pressing a fist unthinking into her hide. "Though it was Thor's idea alone to look upon the forges, the king called _me_ to account. Because I used magic to hide us, not knowing until too late that it was warded and we would be discovered." He let out a frustrated groan, remembering how he'd tried to restore the illusion and Thor had called lightning on Eitri's son, which might have killed him and certainly made the dwarves angrier. Loki had to put a double in Thor's face to get him to stop fighting long enough to see they were thirty seconds from being surrounded and very dead. More irksome than the event itself was afterward, when Thor told the tale ending it that he'd slain a hundred dwarves and walked away victorious. In a few years, Thor would probably forget it had happened differently

" _You did not expect a ward in their most sacred place_?" Svafnir asked, disbelief coloring her mental tone.

He glowered at her, affronted by the unexpected echo of Odin's words to him. "I was careless, yes, but we would not have been there at all, but for his desire to see them. I'm not going to be king, so it matters little, yet Odin saw only my mistake. No words make him see Thor is anything but himself in younger form, a great shining hero all adore."

His heart was too heavy to find his usual sarcasm. It was a truth immutable and he knew of no way to change it. Asgard rejoiced in the very thing he loathed. He'd seen the true horror of war, but the rest of Asgard only played at it.

He slumped against Svafnir's bulk. "What can I do? What should I do?" he asked her. "He loves the glorious tales, the acclaim, and the battle, but that's what they _want_. "

" _You accompanied him each time, do you not love the same_?" Svafnir asked.

"No, I was just... bored." He shrugged, rubbing a thumb on his inner wrist.

" _Hmm_." She swung her head up to look at him again, and though he could feel nothing of her rifling through his thoughts, her kind words to follow made it clear she had. " _Young one, your memories go with you, wherever you run. That is not how you escape them._ "

He shrugged again. "It worked well enough. Anyway, this is about Thor, not me. How can I make the All-father listen to me?"

 _"Do not speak_ ," she advised. " _I do not warn the hunters; I kill them to demonstrate my power. You must demonstrate your fear in such a way Borsson cannot ignore it. Or, if you cannot, then you must admit that your fear is empty._ "

He scrubbed a hand back through his hair, muttering, "I don't care. I'd rather do nothing."

" _If that were true, you would not have come to me_."

He grimaced, wishing she was wrong, but she knew him too well, the canny old dragon.

But how to make Thor demonstrate he was too eager for battle to be king? Could Loki do so without inviting true war or putting Asgard into peril?

There in the cavern with Svafnir, Loki pondered how to solve the riddle. Whatever he did, it would be dangerous, because only true danger would bring a true response. But he could manage the risk, make his point, and it would be done. The coronation would be delayed, and Odin would realize his other son had some wisdom after all.

* * *

tbc...


	2. A familiar place

Loki watched with a deep sense of satisfaction as Odin completely lost his temper with Thor. Thor was shouting about how Odin was a coward and weak, and in return, Loki was hearing Odin echo all of Loki's thoughts about how Thor was a reckless child and had nearly dumped Asgard into a war with Jotunheim. They were all the right condemning words, that said finally _finally_ Odin saw the truth. The plan had worked.

But the words didn't stop where he expected. Astonished, he watched as Odin stripped his rank from Thor and took Mjolnir away from him - which until that moment Loki hadn't even known was _possible_ \- and then, ignoring all of Thor and Loki's protests, banished him.

Staring in horror and shock, Loki watched as Thor was sent away somewhere.

 _This was not what was supposed to happen_. That was all he could think, the words kept twirling in his mind never settling, as he watched this happen with a strange numbness. It started being amusing, in an ironic way; Odin had finally seen Thor's flaws and gone way past what Loki had ever expected him to do.

"As for _you_ -" Odin turned on him, and Loki took a step backward away in reflex.

"I tried to tell him not to go," Loki protested. "He didn't listen to me, he never does, you know that."

"You set this whole plan in motion," Odin said, glaring at him.

"NO!" Loki said. "No, not at-"

He didn't see it coming, as Odin's hand smacked him hard across the cheek. "Silence!" he bellowed. "Do you take me for a fool, Loki? How else did those Frost Giants get into the treasury, but you?"

Loki opened his mouth to disclaim any responsibility, but nothing came out under the baleful stare of that one eye. Odin growled at him, "That guard is dead. Because of you."

"Not because of me!" Loki protested. "I didn't touch him! He wasn't supposed to be there!"

He grimaced as soon as the words flew out unchecked.

Now that Loki had admitted his guilt, Odin calmed himself. "Why?" Odin demanded. "Why did you do such a reckless thing?"

It burst out of Loki then, "Because he was never fit to be king! He almost got us into a war, because he doesn't _think_. He's a foolish dolt who runs at trouble, and you never ever saw that! But you yourself had said that the Einherjar were supposed to attend the ceremony, so there wasn't going to be anyone at the Treasury, only the Destroyer inside. The Jotnar were trying to steal the Casket, the Destroyer would stop them, and that was all!"

"And for your brother to go haring off to Jotunheim for revenge," Odin corrected. Loki might have argued that he hadn't planned that part; the whole point had been to show that Thor would do that of his own recklessness if sufficiently provoked. But Loki certainly had expected Thor to do it. "Did you intend for me to exile him?"

"No! That was a surprise," Loki muttered. "I just wanted you to see him for who he is."

"Then what did you expect to result?"

"That you would stop believing he'd be anything but a terrible king," Loki answered. "He is not ready." He knew what that sounded like and his lips twisted into a bitter smile. "Not to be king myself. Don't worry, I have no designs on what will never be mine."

"How is it you see Thor's lack of wisdom so clearly and yet are so blind to your own?" Odin challenged. "Those Jotnar were not toys to be wound and set to your amusement; you used them, knowing they would die, for some vague and terrible reckless end. You owe blood price to that guard's family, but before that, you will remember the value of life." He shook his head. "Once not long ago, you begged me to go to Midgard to save the mortals, and now you spend immortal lives without thought. Where did that go, Loki?"

"I was trying to prevent war!"

"By planning to start one? Against Jotunheim?"

It went unspoken, but Loki heard it anyway – "against your own kind?" - and he let his lips twist. "Of course against them. Who else? Thor protested once, the others not at all. They were eager to fight the beasts."

Odin ground Gungnir against the floor. "You set them a test they could only fail. Your plan might have gotten our best warriors or countless Jotnar killed to prove nothing, Loki."

"To prove nothing's changed!" Loki exclaimed, fists clenched. "You all pretend it doesn't matter, but if that had been Alfar in the treasury, none of this would've happened!"

"To prove _nothing_!" Odin bellowed back. "To prove that if we are attacked, our warriors will defend. To prove that your petty fears will get innocents killed!" Loki opened his mouth to shout back at that, but Odin slammed Gungnir down and he couldn't speak. "You have lost your grip on what is important, and you are no prince of the Realm before you find it again. You will go from this place, bound from your magic, to live among the mortals as one of them. Until you learn their value again."

Loki stared, aghast. He'd never thought Thor would be exiled, and he'd considered that fate for himself even less.

"This is a gift, Loki," Odin warned. "Remember who you were. One cannot rule without strength, or compassion to temper that strength."

Loki listened to that, and his lip curled. "If I were going to rule anything that would matter to me," he retorted. "But we both know that's a lie."

"You may yet rule, the future is not written and there are many years ahead," Odin declared. "But you will never rule if you spend lives as if they are leaves on fire. GO, now."

Gungnir flared as the All-father turned the entirety of his might on Loki, and then all slipped away.

* * *

Awareness dribbled back, arriving first as an acknowledgment that he was here, wherever _here_ was. Something smelled scorched. Besides the burnt smell, there was dirt under his hands, as his fingers twitched.

He was lying on his front, and when he pushed upward, his body ached everywhere, from skin to bone inside. His head thumped most unpleasantly. He groaned and flopped back down to rest. What had happened?

Right. The Bifrost. Probably that was the source of the scorched smell. Why did he feel so weak, though?

And where had Odin sent him?

Pushing upright he looked around. It was green, some sort of meadow perhaps, with grass and a thin rivulet of a small marsh to his left, and trees past that. It could be anywhere temperate.

Standing was less fun than sitting up, muscles complaining and dizziness causing him to stumble. But once he was on his feet, he felt a bit better. The pain and weakness were fading as he moved, so he stretched, realizing that his clothes were different, too: a fuzzy long-sleeved tunic in brown, simple black trousers, and short useless boots. He frowned at them, and reached for seidr to call his combat leathers.

There was nothing. Nothing happened. He couldn't feel the seidr at all.

He tried again, closing his eyes to concentrate. But for nothing. His magic was gone.

His heart lurched with a sudden panic, and he held out his hand. His skin was normal Aesir. At least that hadn't been taken from him, to drop him here in that other guise.

He glowered up at the sky. "Ah, so that's what you did."

Odin had stripped his magic away. Not all of it, clearly, or he'd have blue skin, but he had locked away Loki's access to it. No seidr meant no illusions, no fire, no conjuring... no defenses. He patted his clothes, finding no daggers hidden away.

His punishment, then. That's what this was.

He was suddenly infuriated and tipped his head back to yell, "He'd be king right now if it weren't for me!"

There was no reply, not that he expected one. He blew out a deep breath, then grew still at the sound of voices not far away. Gesturing to veil himself in invisibility, nothing happened. He groaned, and glanced around for somewhere to hide, except the Bifrost had made sure he was in the middle of bare dirt, very obviously stamped with something that had burnt.

He'd scooted to the edge of the circle when the two people came into view. They were... mortals, it appeared, two women with bare legs and boots.

One of them, the one with the blonde ponytail waved to him with a smile. Uncertain what to do, he waved back, hoping his smile looked less fake than it felt. They were human, most likely, and that meant this was Midgard, and given their skin was fair and the weather and foliage were familiar, it was probably northern Europe. But it wasn't until one of them shouted good morning and said something about the strange weather that he recognized that she was speaking in an accent and language he remembered.

He turned around and looked up. It was summer, so the flora was grown and full, but he recognized the higher mountain peak to the east. Once it had been his, and all the forest beneath it.

He was back in Arendelle.

Casting his eyes upward again, he nodded in appreciation for the old man's canniness, putting him back here.

"That was a strange storm," the taller one said, shaking her head as she and her companion came up to him. "It came so quickly and then... it was gone."

They seemed to be awaiting a response, and he forced a weak chuckle. "Yes, sudden mountain storms... very abrupt, right?"

"Are you well?" the other asked, frowning in concern that doubled seeing the charred ground. "Dear God, were you struck by lightning?"

"No," he answered hastily. "But some struck near me, I think."

"I can call for help?" The other woman pulled out a small object from her pocket and his eyebrows lifted in surprise at how much smaller radios had become since he'd been here last.

But he knew better than to ask what the year was. Nor did he want to attract well-meaning but foolish help. "No, no, that is not necessary. Thank you." He gave them a nod and started toward the town.

* * *

Loki stood on the ridge, pushing aside some of the summer growth, and looked down at Arendelle. His eyes widened.

It had grown. So much. The town had been much bigger during the war against the Nazis than in Elsa's day, of course, but nothing like what he saw now. It was a city now, grown far beyond its original buildings built around the bay. Now the buildings crept high upon the slopes of the hills and mountains, and along the shore out to the mouth of the fjord and up the narrow valley that had once been farms. There was a broad highway and a train station, and tall buildings of at least ten levels.

Very little except the shape of the bay itself seemed familiar.

The causeway that had once traversed an arm of the bay to reach the castle had been filled in with a road and buildings, and where the castle had been, looked to be mostly empty land.

The pang of loss hit inside his ribs. So Agent Carter had been right; they had rebuilt the city. But he was also right, that they had not rebuilt the castle. The rest of the city had been built into something unrecognizable. It was not his home now. Elsa was at least two centuries dead, and this place was strange.

But as he had nowhere else to go, he walked down anyway. He ran across a paved hiking trail and found from the signage that the area he had arrived was now preserved as a park. Instead of going cross-country he used the trail to get off the mountain again. It was better than some roads for automobiles he had been on. Other walkers passed him going up and down. Some were running, and one woman was running with a baby in a carriage. He nearly asked her if she needed help, but since she did not seem alarmed or pursued, he decided it must also be a form of exercise. No one paid him much attention except to greet him as they passed.

The trail came down into inhabited areas that he remembered as wild. The road and houses restricted the path that he could go and twisted up his sense of direction, frustrating him. He could see the city center still below, but it seemed difficult to get there. But as the roads narrowed and the building design seemed more familiar, there were staircases to allow a more direct descent to the bay.

It was a long walk, longer than it had seemed when it was mostly open land, and his leg muscles were complaining. And his throat seemed dry.

He frowned, drank some water from a public fountain, and felt better. But he knew what it meant. Not just seidr was taken from him, but his immortality as well. The Gift of Idunn was weakened. He was going to need food and drink and rest. He'd become mortal.

 _So taking seidr was not enough for you, you had to punish me by making me one of them, too. Weak as a mortal. But I am not one of them, and I never will be_.

There was no reply to the irritable and soundless declaration, of course, and he continued into an area with shops on the lower floors of the buildings.

He found a newsstand and a few newspapers, though fewer than he thought it should have, and discovered the date was 2011. His eyebrows went up in surprise. Sixty-seven years since he was last on Midgard, it seemed. He had avoided thinking about Midgard so thoroughly he had ignored mortal time, and more had passed than he would have expected.

The world had moved on from the war years. Certainly he saw less armament, and he saw proper flags, not the Nazi swastikas that had covered the buildings when he had last been here. It was good to know that despite the destruction in the war, Arendelle had been rebuilt and seemed prosperous.

Though some things had changed, much still seemed the same. The automobiles still drove on the ground. Howard's flying car that Carter had told him about, had apparently not proven practical or safe, though the autos themselves did seem quieter and more colorful. He was disappointed there were no flying cars, or at least cars that drove themselves. Such a waste of time to have to operate the machines oneself. He would have to do something about that if he were trapped here for an extended length of time.

In the old waterfront, where the buildings were preserved along one side in comforting familiarity, Loki walked along, observing his surroundings with care.

People seemed to be wearing fewer clothes, men and women both, though especially the women who wore a mind-boggling array of skirts and trousers of different lengths, and boots and skinny high heels. And so many colors.

Everyone seemed to have a portable telephone. He would have to acquire one and see what everyone was doing, looking at it so intently; it must be used for more than mere telephoning.

He reached a good vantage of the waterfront and looked across to the castle. There was still a turret and part of the east wall standing, and there was a new building that looked to house a small museum. The rubble was gone, and it all looked well preserved, but not rebuilt.

He thought about walking across, then wondered if he could bear to see the ruin too closely. So he turned away, to think about it, and strolled the old market square instead. It had been closed off from automobiles, and he could walk across the stone paving to examine the new statue in the center.

It was a grand thing, with steps on four sides up to a platform. On the platform was a round stone base and a tall bronze statue of a man wearing a formal military uniform. Two howling wolves sat at his feet. Narrowing his eyes at the plaque on the base, he started to laugh and laugh.

 _Did you know, All-father? Did you see this was built and never told me? Because this surely is the grandest jest in the Nine Realms_.

The carving in the base said: "Lukas Onsdag the Ice Demon, Hero of Arendelle"

Hero. He snorted and shook his head, wishing he could pull this stupid thing down or burn it.

The clothing was something he'd never worn, but the likeness in the face was good, perhaps someone had used photographs. He combed his fingers through his hair, fluffing it loose in front of his ears to make the resemblance less noticeable, thinking sourly that an illusion would make this easier. If he could make himself blond at least... but no. At least Odin hadn't thrown him here in his Jotunn form to truly punish him. The humans would be chasing him in no time with a hideous blue creature roaming around.

He sat down on the shallow steps in the shadow of his own statue, and his pose must have seemed unwell, because it drew attention of a couple. The man asked him, "Are you all right?"

"Oh, yes, I am very-" Loki stopped speaking, as a flying machine approached. Helicopter, he realized. They had not been common in Europe, but Barnes had told him about them. The Germans had only a few to worry about and none he'd seen in operation.

But this one seemed well-built and modern, painted white with a black eagle design on the side, and flying low from west to east. He frowned at it, wondering why it would fly at such a low altitude. "What is that?" he asked.

The man frowned at the helicopter as if he wasn't sure either, then shrugged. "There are many helicopters that go to the offshore platforms, though I didn't think they could fly so low over the city like that."

"Perhaps they have injured going to the hospital," the woman suggested, and since she didn't seem alarmed by the helicopter, Loki relaxed. Nothing to concern himself with, even if the helicopter had seemed vaguely military.

He lurked around the central square the rest of the afternoon, floating in and out of the shops which mostly seemed to carry trinkets or foodstuffs. He grew less certain what to do. Without powers he couldn't use illusion to pretend to have money, and he would need money to acquire a place to stay or food. Perhaps he could go to Birgitte, or whoever ruled now.

Bored, he eventually returned to a newsstand/snack shop near the square because at least it had magazines to read. There was an interesting selection in various languages, some featuring people of no interest to him, but some were useful in letting him piece together the history he had missed and what the current political situation was.

He was reading an issue of _Der Spiegel_ , when the woman who had been sitting behind the counter came up to him. "This isn't a lending library, you know."

He closed the magazine and put it back. "No, of course not. Sorry."

She frowned at him. "You were in here before. But you didn't buy anything."

"No, I didn't," he agreed. "I'm… waiting."

"Waiting for what?" she asked.

 _Absolution_ , while true, was hardly something she'd understand. He shrugged.

"Are you a student at the university?"

"No," he answered. "I'm... traveling."

She frowned, glancing at the chocolate display he'd been hovering over before he went to the magazines. "Do you not have any money?"

He was a prince of Asgard, he didn't need money. Hell, he might still have his old Swiss accounts and two hundred years of interest, so he could have Earth money. But the true answer was, however shameful it might be, "No." He needed a story and added, "My bag was stolen. My money and my papers were in my bag. I have nothing but what I'm wearing." He gestured to his clothes, and tried to look young and pathetic. It was something that had worked for him in the past, with the seeming youthfulness of his face.

"Did you go to the police?" she asked.

He shook his head, trying to look fearful. "They would contact my family. Send me back."

"Is that so bad?" she asked, looking at him both warily and yet in concern.

He shook his head and swallowed hard. It was unexpectedly painful to speak the truth. "My father… threw me from my home. He wants nothing to do with me."

"I think they would understand, if you explained it to them. There's nothing to fear," she told him gently.

He wanted to protest that he wasn't afraid, which he wasn't, but then again, he was reluctant to contact the authorities, having become weak enough he had to be careful. He cleared his throat and asked, "Do you know of a place that will give supper to stranded students with no money?" The vague queasy feeling in his abdomen he associated with hunger, though hunger was not a feeling he was accustomed to.

She didn't fall for his change of topic. "What's your name?" she asked.

He opened his mouth to say Lukas, remembered the statue, and instead answered, "Luke. Luke Rendell."

"Luke. I am Sophie, my daughter Helga is over there," she waved to the window, where there were two nearly-adult girls talking on the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street. "Where are you from? Not from here, though your accent is very good."

He wanted to say Arendelle, considered Norway, but then, recalled Elsa's husband's homeland and answered, "Genovia. My mother's family was from here." Before they could get into why he hadn't contacted any of those relatives or why he'd been stupid enough to have all his valuables in a pack, he forced a smile at her. "Thank you for letting me while away some time in here." He nodded to her and pushed the door open. She made a soft sound as if she might call him back and then stopped.

Back into the market square, he wondered what to do now. He was the Ice Demon, that ought to be good for something, but he wasn't sure how to utilize it. Or if anyone would believe him; he couldn't demonstrate ice powers or any other magic, and shooting him with a bullet might do actual damage. He was not eager to find out.

He glanced at the statue and it seemed to be mocking him, now. There was Lukas Onsdag, the Ice Demon, defender of Arendelle, admired figure of legend. And over here was...

Luke Rendell, nobody of Midgard.

Well, if that had been Odin's plan, it was succeeding brilliantly.

He heaved a sigh and wandered the path along the water, admiring the boats and keeping an eye on the castle ruin, remembering how things had been when he had been there, killing Nazi invaders. He'd had no fear that they could hurt him, though Schmidt had shown him otherwise, and he still remembered that first entry to Elsa's castle fondly.

He wasn't left alone in the end, as two police officers approached him. They were polite, but someone had noticed him lurking about with nothing to do and they asked his name and business. Figuring he might as well keep on with the story he'd told Sophie, he told it again about his things being stolen and that he had nothing and no where to go. They took down his information, which he made up on the spot hoping he'd delayed enough any Genovia officials were gone for the day so no one could deny his story.

"Why not come to us?"

"I didn't want to be in trouble," he answered. "I thought you'd arrest me or send me back, and I don't want to go back. My father hates me, doesn't want me around," which was true enough, "and I thought I could find my mother's family here but now I don't have any of their names. And I... I don't know what to do," he finished in a softer voice.

"You have no money?"

"No money, no phone, no passport, no bag. Nothing. Just me." He spread his arms out to show that was all there was.

"No place to stay? Where were you staying tonight?"

"I was going to the... hostel? But, with no money, how can I stay there?" he countered.

The police officers shared a look that put Loki's back up as it reminded him of a 'this idiot' look that Loki usually tossed at Thor, not received himself, but he was, admittedly, playing the moron here, so whatever he needed to do he would do.

He remembered laughing at the Nazi commander's question about his papers and scornfully replying he needed no papers, but times had changed. He needed papers and he needed money, and he would rather get them somewhat legitimately than stealing, if he could. If they put him in jail for lacking papers, at least they would have to give him the necessities to live.

But instead of arresting him, they seemed sympathetic and offered to bring him back to the station where he could fill out some paperwork and request a new passport from Genovia.

He smiled. "Would it- would it be possible to change citizenship to Arendelle? I would rather not go back to Genovia if I could stay and make a life here?"

"You can talk to the social services ministry tomorrow about requesting asylum," the policeman said. "That's a bit out of our jurisdiction, but we can get your paperwork started at least."

They escorted him more northward this time, enough to catch sight of two black painted vehicles on the main road, heading east. They had painted bird symbols on the sides, which were the same as the symbols on the helicopter he'd seen a few hours before.

"What are those?" he asked the police and disliked hearing that they didn't know. The vehicles looked military, but not of Arendelle if the police weren't familiar with it.

"One of the oil companies, maybe?" one of them said, not sounding very convinced.

"We'll ask," the other said, "when we get to the station."

They meant ask their boss or other police, but it turned out they could ask the people themselves, because the cars were parked in front of the central police station like they had some sort of authority. The vehicles were empty, as the people within them had gone into the building, and Loki wished he had magic as he passed. One small gesture and a silent word of command and he could break both vehicles.

But he had to tamely follow the police and pretend to be a stranded student into the station. The officers took him into the station, away from the ordinary daily process area where people claimed belongings or reported minor crimes, going back to offices. The door's plaque read Lieutenant Heyerdahl, but the door was shut, so they had to wait.

Loki could hear some voices drifting from the office. Two male voices, both speaking in English- one claiming some authority of something called 'shield' by the World Council and the lieutenant denying this authority, unless the king or a minister could confirm that this shield had any business in Arendelle.

Loki was briefly saddened by the mention of a king in Arendelle, which meant Birgitte had passed. Mortal lives were all too fleeting. But more words from within caught his attention.

"... on a scientific survey. There were strange weather reports of a very particular type that suggested there might be some kind of device, and that is very much our specialty, lieutenant. That sort of dangerous technology is not a toy, and can place many innocent people in danger. We need to track it down. And everyone who has been in the area all day."

Listening, Loki felt cold at the words. They'd noticed the Bifrost and they knew enough to know it was mysterious. The last time anyone had known enough about the Bifrost in Arendelle had been Schmidt and Zola. They were both dead, but that didn't mean their knowledge or organization had died with them. Or perhaps this Shield organization was similar to Hydra, and was pursuing this knowledge.

Though... he frowned, a bit puzzled. He hadn't used the Bifrost to arrive in 1942, so they were likely not connecting it with him.

In any case, Loki's arrival had drawn them to Arendelle, so he would push them out. No foreigners would invade Arendelle while he was around, especially if he could start when the presence was small.

Having less power meant he would have to be careful, but even an ant could irritate a dragon if it stung in the right place, and he was far more than an ant.

As the two foreigners stalked out, angry that the police were not being helpful, they utterly ignored Loki and the two policemen who were waiting. But Loki looked at them, memorizing their features. One had little hair, glasses, and not as fair skinned as his partner, who was taller and moved like a fighter, but followed in the more junior position. They both wore plain dark suits, and thankfully did not have octopus pins in the lapels.

The head one barked into his phone, "Tell Fury we need some higher level intervention. They're not letting us investigate."

Loki smiled, pleased, as the two passed outside.

The lieutenant was not very interested in dealing with Loki's problem, asking only some perfunctory questions about Loki's history and intentions in the country. In the end he approved them not treating Loki as a criminal but as a victim of theft, and once Loki had made his report, they could start the process of getting him official help.

Loki stood up and smiled. "Thank you, lieutenant. In return, I'll tell you I recognize that eagle those men had on their cars. They run over and intimidate people all over the world, and steal technology on a pretext that they're protecting people. But also to take it for themselves, and they have little oversight."

The lieutenant frowned at him. "And you know this how?"

Loki grinned and gestured to the viewing screen on the desk. "The internet."

The lieutenant's frown deepened and though he seemed reluctant to take the warning to heart, it fit what he expected and Loki suspected he would be searching out the darker side of that organization shortly. There would be something to find, of that Loki was certain. As little as he had read in the magazines told him that humans remained humans, and when there was power to be had, secrets bred corruption.

Soon he was taken to another police officer, who heard his story again, now including an elaboration on how he'd evaded notice on the ferry to explain how he had arrived. She took down his report of everything stolen. He based most of it on advertisements in the magazines he'd read. He told her about his phone, wallet, two credit cards, passport, and a change of clothes. He made up an address in Genovia and a father named Stefan, and asked her not to contact him, implying it hadn't been a mere dispute but something more violent. Her face softened and she nodded. She reassured him that they would do their best to try to find his things, and he smiled in gratitude, feeling a bit regretful that there was nothing for them to find.

She took his fingerprints and a picture for a temporary identification in the name of Luke Rendell, and left Loki in the waiting room to read all the brochures and forms, while she finished his paperwork. Finally she came back and handed him a shiny temporary identification card and then a leather wallet. "It's been sitting in the lost-and-found for a year. I think it needs a better home," she said as she handed it to him. "Keep it safe this time."

He looked inside and saw money. He lifted his brows at her curiously.

"It was in the wallet," she said with a kind smile and though Loki knew it wasn't true, he wasn't going to deny he needed it or refuse it out of pride. "There is also an address for a place to stay. It's between terms at the university so I arranged for you to have a room for a few days until you're set up with social services."

"This is most generous," Loki said. "It is good to know that some-" he nearly said 'mortals' and had to correct himself, "people still have kindness."

"Of course," she answered. "You are a son of Arendelle, and we welcome our own back."

His head lifted sharply at the words wondering how she knew, but she meant because of the story he'd told about his mother. Sensing his reaction had made her suspicious, he made his lips tremble and blinked rapidly and looked away, clutching the wallet tightly in his hand. "That... is the most hopeful thing I've heard in a long time."

She patted his shoulder, suspicions allayed. "Welcome home."

For moment it felt as if something was caught in his chest and the pretended tears threatened to become real, until he pushed the feeling down to take a deep breath and remind himself such sentiment was liable to get him caught again.

* * *

Outside the police station, he decided to see if he could mix finding something to eat with his mission to do something about these invaders.

A bit of subtle questioning led him in the right direction until he saw one of the cars parked near a restaurant. It appeared to be untended, and when he checked, the agents were within the restaurant, eating together.

Loki picked a pastry in the shop across the street and sat in the window to eat it and wait. When one of the agents passed the window, Loki got up and left the cafe, following after.

The foreigner was not unaware that someone was behind him, but Loki was quicker. As soon as they went into a narrow part of the street and no one was around, Loki made his move, throwing an arm around the foreigner's neck. He struggled, trying to use a defensive move to throw Loki off, but Loki found his strength more than equal to the task of subduing him.

He tightened his grip on the human's throat, putting pressure on his artery. "Hear me," he said in English, into the foreigner's ear. "Arendelle is under my protection. Leave this kingdom and do not return. This is your only warning."

Message delivered, he waited until finally the agent's struggles eased and he fell unconscious. Then Loki took his sidearm, a utility knife at his calf, phone, and his wallet, efficiently stripping him of everything useful, and Loki left him on the sidewalk.

He didn't run, but he did walk briskly, glad he had wandered this part of town earlier so he could make some quick turns and be away from the assault. Curious about the phone, he examined as he walked. There was a primitive decryption code required to access, but he sensed the device was emitting a signal. It was with some regret that he slipped it into the handbag of a passing pedestrian, so the enemy would track her instead.

He doubted they would listen to his warning, not until they started to die, but he was satisfied that at least he had warned them. They would make their choice and they would suffer the consequences.

And he would do what he had failed to do the last time and protect his daughter's kingdom.

* * *

tbc...


	3. Enter the Spider

NOTE: Because of the holiday next week, I'm not sure whether I'll be able to update - but even if I can't, it'll return the week after!

* * *

 **CHAPTER THREE**

 **Enter the Spider**

 **.**

On the quinjet, heading at Mach 2 to Arendelle, Natasha listened to Ward's report in her earpiece again. He hadn't seen his assailant's face, so she could discount his claim of any sort of fight. He'd been surprised and subdued immediately. Given Ward's training, that was difficult. He'd not expected any attack, but to be restrained sufficiently that Ward had not seen his face at all, meant their opponent was also trained. Ward also reported that his assailant was at least his height, and likely taller, which was at least a clue to his identity, even if there was little more to go on.

Why attack a SHIELD agent and tell him to get out of Arendelle? Not that everyone, including allies, were always happy to find SHIELD on their sovereign soil, throwing their authority around. The local police had already refused their assistance in investigating the meteorological phenomenon, so perhaps this assailant was one of them.

Bad enough there was some local, who was trained well enough to take down a Level 7 agent without difficulty, but the assailant had also taken Ward's weapons, phone, and wallet. The phone and wallet suggested an amateur thief, but the phone had misled them to the wrong target, upsetting a woman at her family's table, much to Sitwell's frustration.

Not so amateurish then, a deliberate tactic.

The wallet was more of a puzzle. The credit cards had not been used yet, but perhaps the assailant had been after Ward's SHIELD identification. It wouldn't be difficult to alter the photo well enough to fool most.

According to Ward he'd also said, "This is your only warning."

That was something people said who feared it would be ignored, as this one surely did. So what would he do to retaliate when SHIELD did not leave? Was he prepared to use those weapons he had taken from Ward? Would he injure the next as another warning? Or would he kill?

Fury had told her, sounding annoyed in the wake of the Stark mission, that Coulson was taking Clint to New Mexico to investigate matching meteorological phenomena to what had appeared in Arendelle. All they had found in Arendelle was a scorch mark in the dirt as if struck by lightning, and yet...

She slid out the photo of the file. That was no ordinary lightning strike, not with that pattern in the dirt. It was somewhat trod on, but still looked... designed. Not natural. And that was nothing compared to the second photo in the pile: the hammer found in the desert. The hammer that was fixed to the ground and and could not be made to move, as if it weighed as much as the Earth itself. It was impossible.

But it wasn't only strangely intense, sudden storms that had arrived without the matching weather patterns to create them that connected the two events. There was another photo showed the detail of the markings on the hammer. They looked like Norse runes. Coulson was calling up a scholar he was familiar with to translate them, but she already knew that Arendelle spoke a version of Norse, and the pattern in the scorched dirt looked very similar to the design on the hammer.

In their briefing, Fury had seen she'd noticed and he nodded. "I don't believe in coincidence, Agent Romanoff. This thing and the mark in Arendelle appeared nearly simultaneously, thousands of miles apart. This person assaulting my agents is not a coincidence either. So your mission, Agent Romanoff, is to identify him and get within his circle of trust. The other field agents will help you run this op, and once you're in position, I want you to stay with him and evaluate his threat. Identify, contain-"

"Subdue?" she'd asked.

"Only if necessary. I'd rather you not. He told Ward he was protecting Arendelle, so he seems to be misinterpreting our mission there. We may be able to make him an ally." He'd said it, tucking his hands behind his back which always meant Fury was keeping something from her.

"What aren't you telling me?" she'd asked, not expecting the full answer.

He gazed out the window at the sky. "Fairy tales, Agent Romanoff. Things I was told and I never believed, but now... I don't know. Maybe stories are more true than I thought." He'd shaken his head in disbelief.

"More things in heaven and Earth, sir?" she'd asked dryly, and he'd almost smiled in agreement before turning a grim face back to her.

"If he's just a local, who's unhappy with us, contain him until we're done. If he's more... well, I want to know that, too."

So now here she was, on a mission to approach and contain the target, but not subdue. That meant Fury had more than a vague suspicion that doing more than containment might provoke a stronger hostility. And if this... being … was connected to those anomalies, stronger hostility was not what they wanted to provoke.

At a military airstrip to the south of the city, the quinjet landed and Sitwell was there to meet her. "Any new sightings?" she asked.

"Nothing. Ward and Jones have stayed in the city center as a lure, but our mysterious friend hasn't bit."

"He'll make his move on his time, not ours," she said. "New orders from Commander Fury. Once the target is identified, you and your men drive him my way for evaluation. Commander Fury wants him alive."

Sitwell made a bit of a doubtful face. "The only way we're going to ID him is if he hits first. I don't know that everyone's going to have that same restraint if he kills someone."

"Then make sure he doesn't kill anyone." She handed him her SHIELD badge. "Hang onto that. I don't want it on me. Is the rental ready?"

He nodded. "Ready."

"Good. I'm Natalya Romanova, agent of Russian intelligence here to investigate whatever you Americans find so interesting." She let her accent lace her words again, relaxing back into the role. Black Widow was her codename, but it was also her in a certain fundamental sense, and the Black Widow was Russian. Always.

* * *

Arendelle was a bit quaint and modern at the same time, she saw as she drove the rental car to her small hotel in the city center. The buildings were mostly modern, some new within the last few years as the city expanded with the arrival of significant oil money, but it still retained its character of low buildings on narrow streets in the old city near the water. Because it was built against some hills, there were stairs between the buildings to join the elevations together, even if cars and bikes had to take the longer circuitous route of switchbacks up and down. Someone on foot who knew his way around in that rabbit warren was going to have a distinct advantage over his opponents. SHIELD's advantage was persistent daylight, since it was late spring and the days were long so far north, though that was only going to help once they identified him.

She kept an eye out for tall men as she drove, and realized that was going to be difficult in a nation that seemed to average at least two meters tall.

At her hotel, she checked in under her Russian passport, lied that she was driving up to the Finnish border and back to Russia the long way, and then went to scope out the town and find something to eat.

She saw Ward sitting on a bench in the park near the wharf, being entirely too obvious. She rolled her eyes and walked past without acknowledgment. Their target wasn't going to hit one he'd hit before. He'd guess there was a trap. She didn't have to turn to know that Jones was on the roof of the building with a sniper scope watching over Ward.

Sometimes SHIELD was so set in their ways.

She ordered tea and the first thing in the entree list in the sidewalk cafe, and set up her own surveillance. It had been nearly twenty-four hours since he'd delivered his threat, and it was dinner time in Arendelle. Was he out there ready to hit one of the SHIELD agents, or had it been an empty threat and Fury was wrong?

She waited, ate, pretended to read a magazine, and wondered where he was.

* * *

Loki had spent most of the day at social welfare, declaring his intent for asylum in Arendelle and being shoved around various officials, who were rather shockingly disinterested about why he wanted to become a citizen of Arendelle. His ability to speak the language like a native helped, and the only check they made was of his fingerprints and photo. When nothing turned up in their databases, they assumed he was not a fugitive or otherwise undesirable. His application was processed even though not a single word of it was true.

He didn't intend to return to Sophie's shop, but lacking anyone else he knew, he went there to share his good news. She recognized him, which was warming, and he held out his official letter of approval to her to look at. "I wanted to thank you," he said, "for not letting me fear the police and get this started. So I'm going to be a citizen and start looking for work and a real place to live, and I owe it to you, Sophie."

She grinned. "That is wonderful, Luke, I am so pleased for you! You must come to dinner tonight, and we will celebrate!"

The invitation took him by surprise. "I- That would be an imposition," he demurred, uncomfortable with the idea. It sounded like being friends and he didn't want to go there.

But she insisted and he didn't like the idea of being alone to eat again – eating all the time was already tedious – so he gave in and promised to be back when she closed the shop.

He saw the agent on the bench in the square and declined the bait. It irritated him that they didn't believe him, but then again, why should they? He hadn't proven he was to be taken seriously.

There had to be an observer. Roof top or window? Knowing he'd get only one pass without drawing attention, he walked along the bay, back from the agent to check lines of sight as surreptitiously as he could.

This would be so much easier with seidr – he could cloak himself invisible, or use illusion to look like someone else.

Glint of sun on something on a rooftop. _Oh, you child._

He kept walking, intending to circle around, but he accidentally ended up before the church. His step faltered and he looked at the facade. It had been restored to something near what it had been before Schmidt's beast had crushed the front wall to rubble.

His heart felt tight at he approached the front, casting his eyes upward to the bell tower. It had been smaller in Elsa's day, but the steps were the same and the double doors looked the same. The door opened to a slight tug, so he went inside. He stared at the carving of Yggdrasil on the wooden paneling beneath the choir, unaware of anything else.

 _It's still here. How is it still here?_

He moved closer, brushing his hand against the smoothed scales of Jormungandr beneath, inexorably toward the head. His finger hovered over the eye latch, since he was curious about what, if anything, might be stored within, but his hand refused to move that little bit closer to touch it. He took a convulsive step back, remembering the trap that had been laid for him and the pain that had followed.

He rubbed a thumb over his wrist, trying to calm a suddenly racing heart.

"Is there something I can help you with, my son?" a voice asked from the aisle. "You seem troubled and there can be solace in the house of God."

Loki laughed once, both at the irony of 'my son' and at the idea that the priest could help. "I think it is your god who took my solace from me."

"So you turn to other gods in His place?" the priest asked, moving up beside him.

"No," Loki's gaze sought the top of the tree where Asgard was marked and added more softly, "Seeking comfort of _them_ is the course of a fool."

"Perhaps then in the love of others?" the priest asked. "Sit down with me, and tell me of your loss. A sympathetic ear of the living may offer what prayer does not."

For a moment, he was tempted to tell this stranger the truth, to unburden his heart and let go of the weight of these secrets. It seemed a welcome idea to unpack the dense layers built within, but... not to this priest who would never understand. He would never believe Loki's tale anyway.

Loki shook his head. "You offer kindly but this is my burden. My failures brought suffering to others."

The priest lifted his eyebrows as he considered Loki's words. "Guilt is a dangerous enemy that can drown good people in blame and doubt for things they couldn't control. Accept only that fault which is yours. Men are not God, to shoulder the burden of everything that happens."

Wanting to laugh at that – _and if I am a god, what then, priest?_ – Loki merely shook his head. "Yet if the fault was mine? A good man now lies at the bottom of the sea because I didn't save him?"

The priest paused before answering, "The sea has always been a treacherous place. We who live here know that best of all, do we not? We make our prayers," he nodded to the altar down the way and to the image of Yggdrasil, "but we know the sea takes, and sometimes it gives back, but always as it wills."

As the sea had taken Steven from him, but only because Loki had let him crash in the first place. He shut his eyes, and turned, saying in a voice that could scarcely get out of his throat, "I should go."

"You are always welcome to return," the priest invited. "To speak to me, or if you like, we have resources to help with grief or trauma. You need not go through whatever troubles you, alone."

Loki nodded once and left as quickly as he could, not able to draw in a deep breath until he was halfway down the street.

Pushing his hair off his face, before remembering he had to leave it down, he managed to breathe and focus his thoughts. He hadn't expected the reminder of the past to hit so hard, and he needed to push it away and get back to what he was doing.

He had promises to Elsa and to Birgitte to protect this Realm.

* * *

First he checked the road behind, to make sure the spotter did not have a spotter of his own. He saw no one. He would have to be cautious and work stealthily from the side and rear.

The houses in that row were mostly attached and it was easy enough to pull himself up on someone's garage and from there, walking with confidence and not sneaking, but also staying out of the direct line of sight where his targets were, he made his way across the roof.

Closer, he slowed, peeking over the edge to observe the younger man lying down with his rifle and scope, pointed toward the square and his companion. Slipping closer behind the chimney, Loki slithered over the peak of the roof and then hurled himself on top of the watcher.

Taken by surprise, the man grunted with shock and was delayed in his attempt to fight back, and had little leverage. He did manage to knock over the tripod of his weapon and shortly there was a signal. _"Jones! Jones, status_!"

Damn it, he had no time.

Loki put his hand around the man's neck, forcing his face into the roofing tiles, and found the communication device, speaking into it, "I warned you. Take your people and leave Arendelle."

" _If you kill him, we'll hunt you down_!" the other man threatened.

"I am the hunter, Agent Ward. You are the prey." He slammed Agent Jones' head into the roof, so he went limp. Knowing others might be converging, he found Jones' utility knife and wallet, removed the rifle clip and the scope, and left the rest, racing away down the roof line. He jumped from one row to the next, down to the ground into someone's garden, and then to the next avenue where he slowed his pace and tucked his findings into his pockets to walk nonchalantly on the sidewalk.

These idiots were doing nothing but arming him, and he wondered when they'd realize that.

But it was time for dinner. Too bad he'd left behind the rifle, he could have given that to Sophie as a hostess gift.

* * *

tbc...


	4. Gestures of Remembrance

Natasha listened and didn't attempt to chase after Jones' assailant. She'd been right; the bait had been too obvious and their opponent too smart for that.

It was her first time hearing his voice for herself on her earpiece. His accent was English with very little local influence, as if he'd gone to school in England or at least spent several years there. In spite of that, or perhaps because of it, he seemed determined to get SHIELD out of Arendelle. Did he dislike foreigners in general, or did he have a disagreement with SHIELD in particular?

She made a mental note to request some background on any individuals who had run up against SHIELD in the last fifteen years in Britain. Perhaps their target was one of them, and that was why Fury was so willing to let this one play out, even with the danger to their own team.

But the target wasn't returning to the square for awhile, so she paid her bill and left the cafe.

In her hotel room, she flopped on the bed and played the video back. She'd set it to record in Ward's direction, while she faced the other way. Their target had made Jones' position, which meant he'd been close enough to spot him. He'd also known Ward couldn't identify him, so he likely had been near Ward at some point and could have checked sightlines for a sniper. He hadn't done anything to give himself away to Jones, who'd been watching, but since Jones had just been caught on an empty rooftop, Natasha wasn't impressed with his observational skills.

She kept her finger on the fast forward, slowing only when younger adult men – since that had not been an old voice – walked in front of Ward's bench. Eliminating those too short or too fat, left six possibles and she didn't think any of them were the one.

Frowning, she ran the video again. Maybe he'd made Jones before she'd started recording or from a different position... She fast forwarded through Ward sitting on the bench, pretending to read a book, but then stopped and ran it back. The pedestrian had just hesitated

Not in front of Ward, but _behind_ him, at the water's edge.

Male, tall and slender. She zoomed in on the paused image; it lost definition and he was silhouetted by the sun, but she could see dark clothes and hair, contrasting with a gleam of light skin.

 _It's you, isn't it?_ She examined the image and nodded, knowing it was.

She played back the scene again, concentrating on that passer-by. He had an easy saunter of long legs that had hesitated when he'd been directly behind Ward, and he had turned his head in the direction of the buildings a few steps later, on the edge of frame, as something caught his eye. That was when he'd made Jones.

She paused it as his face turned toward her, but the backlight was too strong to make out much.

 _Well played putting the sun behind you. You're good, but you're not perfect. You hesitated. And I bet you hesitated with Jones. You went up there to kill him and you hit him instead._

Did he fear escalation? At the least it suggested he didn't want to draw the attention of local law enforcement, who might be willing to look past an over-excited self-appointed defender, but not murder.

Maybe he was law enforcement with former military or intelligence training. She'd have to look into it, especially now that she had some idea what he looked like.

The question was whether he was willing to escalate if SHIELD didn't leave, or if he would be content to harass until he provoked SHIELD into a response, either to retaliate himself or perhaps to have them deported if they stepped out of line.

She heard Sitwell's report, " _Jones has a concussion, but he'll live. Assailant got the scope, knife, and a clip. Not the rifle itself, thank God. And his wallet. Why does he keep stealing the wallets? Just to piss me off_?"

She smiled at that, because maybe the reason was simply to inconvenience them.

Either way, he'd won his little victory over Jones, but he'd also given away some of his identity. He'd slip again, or get overconfident, and she'd find him.

* * *

Loki presented himself to the shop as Sophie and Helga closed up. He presented his bottle of wine, hoping the gesture was correct, and smiled at Helga as they were introduced properly. Helga frowned at him, disapproving that her mother had adopted this stray, but her natural curiosity soon asserted itself and they were having a lively conversation about her school.

At their townhouse, Sophie unlocked the door and invited him inside. As she and her daughter passed within, Loki watched as both reached to touch a round, flat white object affixed to the wall inside the door. It was a reflexive gesture as they passed inside, and apparently one of long standing, but not a tradition Loki recalled.

He paused to look at it more closely. It was, in fact, a small white dinner plate, plain except for a splotch of purple paint. He frowned, until understanding dawned: it was meant to be a plum.

A plum on a plate. The grin spread irrepressible across his face. Of course.

Helga came back to see what had caught his attention. "You don't have one?" she asked.

"Not in Genovia," he answered. "What does it mean?"

She shrugged. "For the Ice Demon. We put a real plum out at Christmas, but the rest of the time it's something we do to thank him for preserving Arendelle."

"Why does Arendelle think he helped anything? A lot of people died because of him," Loki couldn't resist saying.

Helga turned shocked eyes on him. "Because of him? Why would you say that?"

"That is what I heard," Loki said. "That some blame him for bringing the attack here. Or not doing more to defend it."

"Maybe some do?" she said. "Nobody I've heard. I think most people realize he was probably less than the stories say. The Ice Demon was a man, not a real demon or superhero. It's the twenty-first century, I think we're less gullible now," Helga said with charming sincerity, and Loki devoutly wished for his powers so he could show her real magic. She went on, "But it wasn't his fault the Nazis invaded. Only stupid people would believe that; the Nazis invaded everybody. Besides, Queen Birgitte always said he saved her - there's a recording at the museum where you can hear her say it. Everybody knows he was one of the Howling Commandos and he and Captain America gave their lives to end the Red Skull's bombs. We learned that in school. He was a hero, whatever else he was. And that's really what this honors." She touched the plate again.

He found himself without anything to say. He'd lived with the spectre of their hatred for so long this absolution didn't seem real. She was so certain in her generous assessment. Deluded perhaps. Victim of Birgitte's post-war propaganda.

"Come in," Sophie beckoned him. The flat was small but comfortable and spotless. He saw big boots, for men's feet, but out of the way as if not often used.

Helga noticed the direction of his gaze. "Dad works on one of the platforms. So he's gone months at a time."

"Two more weeks and he's home," Sophie said, cheerfully. "We're going to our house up north for the rest of the summer."

Helga made a face, lacking in enthusiasm, as her mother bustled into the kitchen.

"You are not fond of the idea?" he asked.

"I'm glad to see Dad, but it's so boring," she complained with a heavy sigh.

"Do you good to get off that phone of yours," Sophie chided. "Luke, have a seat, please."

Helga ended up showing him the internet on her phone, as it came out that he knew nothing about it. She teased and rolled her eyes a lot at his ignorance, but she was a good teacher. It was a fairly simple system of data storage and retrieval, but definitely a step in advancement since the war. He was about to ask to look up Shield, but then Sophie called them to dinner.

In the dining room he noticed a miniature table and chair sitting on the sideboard- it was the symbolic empty place at the table for the Ice Demon. So that had spread as well.

For a moment, the temptation was very strong to reveal that he was the one that was for, but he decided it wasn't really about him. They were admiring a phantom, a hero, someone who had never really existed. The Savior of Arendelle was like the Loki of the Eddas, a figure of legend but not him anymore, if it had ever been more than an unfortunate pairing of names in the first place.

So he kept his silence and glanced at the tiny chair, amused by the idea of how small a being would have to be to sit there. Really he ought to be offended that he was expected to sit there and he should have words with whoever designed it.

It was a lovely dinner with dishes similar to those he remembered and Sophie watched, pleased as he devoured everything. "You've eaten it all before?"

"A little different, but yes. It was delicious and reminded me of better times," he answered, thinking of dinners with Elsa and Anna.

Sophie smiled. "That is a great compliment, Luke."

After a pleasant evening, Sophie invited him to come back to the shop and she would pay him to restock for her, and he left them. Now that he knew how to use the internet, he pick-pocketed a tourist for her phone and accessed the wireless – the wifi – at one of the cafes to do a little research.

SHIELD.

It was mostly an American organization, now under the aegis of the "World Council", an international organization formed by treaty. It sounded terribly one-sided, with all the power being American, and Loki glowered at the screen, understanding the unbalance was not to Arendelle's favor. It seemed to depend upon the self-described benevolence of SHIELD's intentions, and Loki was far too suspicious and cynical of humans to believe it.

But they were not openly evil, as Hydra had been, and they did have a legitimate purpose in investigating where the Bifrost had hit, since they studied rare technologies and "unusual events."

He put his chin on his hand, thinking. Maybe they were not the enemy. They were not invading Arendelle. But at the same time, did he want them poking at his secrets? As Midgard advanced, the world would draw attention from beyond, announcing themselves present and ready. They were more advanced than Elsa's day, but not nearly enough to defend themselves. So they should stop running around, sniffing at things they didn't understand.

He should discourage them from the Bifrost. Learning to create a portal would definitely attract attention. So the study at the Bifrost site was his next target. The people were immaterial, they were only here because of the Bifrost residue; if he could damage it to uselessness perhaps they would go away.

Course decided, he turned the phone off and put it into his pocket to keep it for later.

Back in his little room at the university, he lined up the bullets from Jones' gun on the desk and started to take them apart to get at the explosive powder within.

* * *

On the other side of the planet, Thor crawled into place next to Jane to look over the ridge to the site below where the mortals were keeping Mjolnir. Or rather, where Mjolnir was keeping itself and the mortals had built all of this around it, as if to lay claim.

He wanted to laugh at their foolishness. They were so childish, these mortals, attempting to control when they had no understanding of anything.

Despite its bright lights, the encampment below seemed made of paper. Entry would not be difficult. Perhaps they might offer a little resistance – he saw some who seemed intended to be guards – but they were small and mortal, with primitive weapons. Without much danger to him, he might enjoy himself.

"You're just going to walk out of there?" Jane demanded, incredulous.

He grinned at her. "I'm going to fly."

He took the memory of her open-mouthed, wide-eyed astonishment with him as he headed down the hill to find the perimeter.

There was a primitive fence, only metal woven together. The first two guards were not even entertaining, taken so much by surprise they couldn't raise the alarm. He headed across the trampled sand toward an entrance to the paper tunnel, wondering if he could get all the way to Mjolnir without an alarm being raised.

The alarm rang out, an irritating noise and flashing lights, and he grinned. At least he didn't have to sneak around anymore.

As he fought his opponents, energized by the exercise and a chance to use what strength remained to him in this mortal form, he thought of recent adventures when he and Loki had fought back to back. It had been such great fun to have his brother fight at his side again, as they had in his youth, before Loki had vanished to Midgard for nearly a century and left Thor on his own.

Recent years had seen Loki return to that eagerness to seek adventure again, and he'd stopped his mewling about being cautious and thrown himself into it with equal fervor. He'd offered only one, half-hearted caution against the revenge mission against Jotunheim. But apparently that had been enough to buy Father's mercy for him, since he'd not come here or surely Jane would have noticed. Why would he go anywhere else, except sent after Thor? So Loki must be at his ease in Asgard, having talked his way out of trouble again.

But as soon as Thor grabbed Mjolnir and was restored to his proper powers again, he'd call the Bifrost and return home, too. He'd been punished enough for his minor sin of disobedience, and surely Odin had realized Thor had been right to defend Asgard against that unprovoked attack.

More attackers. Well, they certainly had the personnel to throw at him, even if none were particularly challenging opponents.

Until one knocked him down, and suddenly things got far more interesting. Thor looked up and wiped the blood off his lip, with a grin. He had to keep looking up. "You're big. I've fought bigger."

In the fight they tore through the flimsy wall and back out into the rain. The mud turned footing more treacherous, and his grappling technique was sloppy. He hadn't used those moves in a while, since Mjolnir tended to end fights without needing to wrestle the opponent into submission.

But long ago or not, he still had more skill than the over-matched mortal fighter, and he was soon standing up in the mud and going to Mjolnir unopposed now. Finally they'd stopped throwing people at him in vain efforts to stop him and let him go where he wanted to go.

Not that there weren't weapons pointed at him; he knew that. But they held off, perhaps recognizing that one greater than themselves was in their midst and they didn't dare.

The mortals were irrelevant, all that mattered was Mjolnir. His hammer was right there, waiting for him to reclaim it.

He wrapped his fingers around the familiar haft, ready to feel the power course through him, restore him to his place and his strength.

Nothing happened.

He tugged on the handle. Mjolnir didn't move, not a whisker. He pulled harder, bracing himself with his feet and using both hands to pull the handle up.

It was fixed to the Earth, no more movable to him than to anyone else.

The rain fell on him, but he felt none of the wet or the chill or the muddy water dripping down his neck.

 _No_.

He'd lost Mjolnir. He'd lost Asgard. He'd lost his parents and his brother, and his friends. He'd lost everything.

He bellowed his grief, but even then, the All-father didn't relent.

It was gone. He was stuck here. Trapped in this mortal form, with Mjolnir taunting him. And now no way to get it all back.

When the humans filed in to take him prisoner he didn't care, and when one of them introduced himself as Agent Coulson, the one who had stolen Jane's work, he didn't care. He didn't listen. Nothing mattered.

When Erik Selvig came in, calling him Doctor Donald Blake and getting him free, Thor couldn't be surprised. It was all so bleak and empty.

So when Erik said they should get a drink, Thor decided that was an excellent plan. He had nothing else to do or anywhere else to go that was any better.

* * *

...tbc...


	5. On the Run

In the morning, Loki decided to hide himself among others and got a ticket for the funicular. As the little car trundled up the hill and he was surrounded by chattering tourists from the massive white boat that had appeared at the end of the fjord, he watched the city unfurl beneath him. In a few short days he'd proven that he could be home here again, and Asgard be damned. This was no punishment to be here.

At the observation deck he pulled out the rifle scope from his jacket pocket and looked at the city again. From here he could see the way the ridge was terraced, houses on either side of thin streets on long switchbacks, going all the way down to the main road. But pedestrians had more direct access on the funicular or the long staircases. How beautiful it was laid out beneath him, not ruined, not destroyed, but rebuilt and lovely and vibrant again.

He glanced upward. _You sent me here to suffer, but I will not. I'll prove that you are wrong, that you were always wrong about Elsa and Anna and Birgitte. They were true family and this place is as much a home to me as Asgard ever was_.

He touched his envelope full of powder and headed for the meadow.

From the trees, he observed with the scope. He'd expected a few people, and a little equipment. But there were many people, two vehicles, and they'd put a canopy over the mark itself.

His fingers tightened into a fist that they were _defiling_ his place. Trampling it like it was nothing.

 _I want you gone from here. Just be glad I don't want you all dead for this_.

Security was lax, and the man on guard barely glanced at his borrowed SHIELD ID at the perimeter. The dozen scientists at work near the canopy didn't notice him walking toward them, too busy with their machines. He overhead nothing that suggested they understood the least bit about the 'lightning' that had burnt the ground. That made him roll his eyes, as what sort of natural phenomenon would create such a precise mark in the soil as that? Was there not one person on Midgard with the sense to realize it was a much grander phenomenon?

SHIELD had the mark cordoned off beneath a canopy and he intended to burn the whole thing if he could. First, standing off to the side as if he were simply curious, he took out a soda straw, and blew a dusting of gunpowder along the upper surface of the canopy. Mourning the lack of seidr for lighting fires, he used a cigarette lighter and lit the corner on fire. It smoldered unpleasantly and he was unsure if it would catch, but the the cord burned better and got hot enough for flames to form.

He was already several steps away when the alarm went up. As everyone ran to try to put out the growing fire of the canopy, he lit the corner of the envelope on fire and tossed it atop the papers on the table. It burned and crackled loudly, just as the powder on the canopy caught as well, hissing and popping with growing heat and flame.

Many were thrown into a panic, but a few were more savvy. One taller familiar agent spied the man who was walking away and shouted, "Hey, you there, stop!"

Loki declined to stop, but he did look over his shoulder, "I told you to leave, Agent Ward."

"Oh shit, it's him!"

Laughing, Loki turned forward again and ran.

* * *

Natasha waited in her car as soon as she heard about the fire up at the site. Target was on foot, heading down the slope.

He would take the stairs to get to the central city and disappear. The only question was whether he would take this set down to Gunnarsson Boulevard or the set farther north. She pulled her car against the curb, right at the foot of the steps, looking upward and waiting, ready to hurry to the next, depending on the report.

But no, there he was at the top, three levels up, running down the stairs two at a time. Then, about halfway, he vaulted one handed up onto the railing itself and slid all the way down the rest of the railing on the soles of his boots.

Her mouth dropped open as he launched himself from the railing as a car went by, lightly touching the roof of the car, enough to propel himself to the next railing and then in a slide on his boots down the next railing with his hands out for balance.

It was a reckless and unnecessary, since it would be much easier to avoid his pursuers by zigzagging, not going straight, no matter how fast, but for sheer theatricality it was glorious to watch.

Even from the agents pursuing him she heard an admiring "God damn." in her ear.

But they shot at him and clattered down the steps in pursuit, and she hoped they remembered the primary objective of herding him to her.

There was one more set of stairs until he was at her car. She stood up, out the open sun roof, and pulled her sidearm.

His eyes widened, seeing her aiming in his direction, but he didn't try to duck or leap off the rail, perhaps figuring he was going too fast for her shot to be accurate. Which was an incorrect assumption, since if she'd wanted to shoot him she could have, but he wasn't her target.

Instead she aimed carefully past him and up, at the concrete at the other agents' feet, and fired twice. "Come!" she shouted at him. "I can help you!"

Then, damn it, his right side jerked as one of the bullets from above hit him, and he lost his footing, twisting. So instead of the landing he probably would have made, he fell.

Miraculously, he grabbed the rail with his other hand briefly, managing to break his fall, rolled once on the sidewalk and slid practically into the car.

The SHIELD agents now did what they were supposed to do, sending a few more bullets in their direction, striking the sidewalk.

She swore in Russian, in earnest. Because damn it all to hell, his being hit was exactly what she hadn't wanted. "Get in! Hurry!" she demanded urgently as he started to stir. "In the car. They're coming."

He pushed himself up and staggered into the passenger seat, folding long legs like some kind of grasshopper. She was peeling away before he slammed the door. He leaned back against the seat, breathing careful and controlled, while he held his left arm with his hand.

"Oh ow," he groaned. "He shot me. That bastard shot me."

"I can bandage it, when we stop. But first, we escape."

He closed his eyes, brow knitted, and seemed in quite a lot of pain as she hurried through town and out to the highway to go south.

Then his eyes shot open again and he looked at her. "Who are you? Why are you helping me?"

"My name is Natalya Alianovna Romanova," she introduced. "Russian intelligence. I have been watching SHIELD activities, to learn what they are doing."

"They're not your friends, then?" he asked.

She gave a dry laugh. "No, not friends." She waited a moment, and prompted. "And you? Your name?"

His jaw clenched and he hissed through his teeth, before forcing himself to breathe. "Luke."

She smiled. "Luke. Good to meet you."

"You were rather... fortuitous," he said, and switched to Russian. "Natalya Alianovna. Thank you for coming to my rescue."

Her eyebrows lifted. "You know Russian? Your accent is quite good." Actually his accent was impressive- he had a bit of St Petersburg, as if he'd spent some time there, but little foreign inflection. Despite what pain he was in, his lips flickered in a smile and he didn't answer the implied question. She suddenly wondered if he was KGB and not a local at all.

"Where are we going?" he asked.

"Away first. Where we could talk about what you saw."

"Ah, payment for my rescue. I thought there might be some," he said and muttered under his breath, "So predictable."

She didn't frown, keeping her reaction locked down, but his accent was echoing her own now. He was no ordinary policeman, that was for sure.

"You can take me back. I can hide well enough until they go away."

She said in English, wondering how far his facility went, "They won't go away. SHIELD doesn't just pack up and leave."

He peeled his right hand away from his wound and lifted his fingers to look at them. She glanced aside. There was blood, but not a lot of it. He'd been winged, but nothing life-threatening. It looked like completely human red blood. As did the rest of him. So unless space aliens looked and bled just like humans, the guy was human.

He examined his blood-stained hand. He asked, in English too without pause, the same mix of Oxford touched with Germanic she'd heard before. "No? So what do they do, Natalya?"

"They complete their mission, whatever that is. They take what they want, solve the problem if there is one. Then they leave. So what is it they want?"

"Something to do with strange meteorological phenomenon, apparently," he answered, and held his wound again with his bloody hand, wincing at the touch. "I dislike having foreigners on Arendelle's soil."

"Including me?" She glanced at him, hands loosening on the steering wheel. He didn't appear to have a weapon, but he'd stolen the tactical knives so he might...

He chuckled. "Are you invading the country? Then, yes, though that would be quite churlish of me after you helped me, wouldn't it?" He dropped his head back against the headrest with a groan. "This hurts quite a bit more than I expected, and it is still bleeding. It needs healing."

"You're not dying," she said, rolling her eyes at his drama.

"That would be unfortunate," he murmured with a dry chuckle.

She pulled off at the next sign for a decent-sized town and looked for a store. "I'm going to get supplies. Stay here." Inside the shop, she grabbed up their stock of first aid supplies, pain reliever and sleep aid. She smiled at the clerk as she dumped it on the counter. "My husband fell on some rocks. Is there a place to stay tonight?"

The man's English was pretty good, with a heavier accent than Luke's, and she found the information she wanted.

She slid back into the driver's seat, and gave him the package. "There are some cottages at the end of this road that are rentals."

"Rivkelm," Luke muttered. "I remember this place. It's still here..."

Natasha glanced at him, frowning as he seemed less alert, blood loss starting to affect him perhaps. "Almost there." She patted his leg once, intending reassurance and because physical contact would make him trust her more. She had a surprise that he might be slender but that thigh was hard as a rock. Runner, at the very least, perhaps rock climber with that physique and the agility he'd displayed on the railing. And he'd displayed training, taking down Ward. Not someone to take lightly, though he was currently offering no threat.

The road wound around some rocky hills without much vegetation but grass, and then abruptly opened up to a picture perfect narrow fjord and a village of twenty houses and other buildings clustered around the dock.

Well, at least this mission had some pretty scenery.

She found the small cottages and the owner was happy to rent one to her. Getting Luke out of the car proved more difficult, as he was a full head taller and he'd stiffened up in the seat, but with some tugging she got him inside the cottage. It was basic but modern – two twin beds, a table with two chairs, and a small bathroom with a shower stall.

Luke sat at the end of one bed, holding his wound tightly, and she dumped the first aid supplies next to him.

"Can I cut off your sweater?" she asked.

"I'd rather you not, unless there's another shirt lying about," he said.

"It's all blood-stained, but maybe some will wash out. Here, let me help."

With much hissing and pained grunting, he pulled the sweater off over his head. That left him bare from the waist up, and he was pale skinned and the rest of him matched his leg, lean but strong. There were a few abrasions on his skin from where he'd hit the sidewalk that he inspected curiously, lip curled in disgust. The gunshot wound on his left tricep was the worst as she inspected it. "Clean shot through. It could use a couple stitches-"

He snorted and muttered, "Stitches."

She ignored the scorn. "But I'm not a doctor, so best I can do is clean it and bind it together." Which she did, while he watched her work intently, either curious or concerned that she didn't know what she was doing. When she tied off the bandage, she nodded in satisfaction. "You should probably have a sling for it to keep your arm still, but why don't you take a couple of these and rest." She set a couple of the pills next to the bottle of water. "I'll go find us some food."

His hand shot out and grabbed her. She could've broken his hold, but she stayed there. His grip was quite strong, long fingers wrapping her wrist. "Yes?"

"Why?" he demanded. "I know little about them; I have no information to give you. All I know is I want them out. So why are you helping me?"

"Perhaps I don't like SHIELD," she answered. "I don't like the way they bully everyone. I don't like the way they think they have a mandate to control everything unusual or powerful."

He released her wrist and sat back, light eyes on her. "Is that so?"

Natasha had learned a long time ago not to flinch under regard, and she wasn't going to start with him, though she was curious about how unafraid he was. He'd been shot at, and yet he treated it as if his wound was painful and inconveniencing, but not that being shot at was particularly noteworthy. Yet she'd seen no other scars on his upper body.

 _Who the hell are you, really, Luke No-Last-Name_?

But she would get to that eventually. Build his trust, interrogate him, and she would find out who he was.

"It's so," she answered. "Rest. I'm going to get some juice for you to help replace the blood you lost and something for supper. Take it easy. They're never looking in this little place."

His eyes flicked to the window as if pursuit hadn't occurred to him before that. He was the strangest combination of prepared and ignorant and she could not figure it out.

"Rest," she urged him. "Be back as soon as I can."

Slipping outside, she waited until she was away from the cottage to call Sitwell. "I have him," she reported.

" _Threat status_?" Sitwell asked.

She snorted. "Right now? Zero. One of your idiots managed to wing him in the arm. I've done some first aid and I'll do containment. But it didn't help his hostility. We'll hole up a day. I'll leave the phone open when I interrogate him."

" _Understood. We'll pull back_."

"Good." She hung up, in no mood to continue that conversation, wishing Coulson was here instead. He understood the psychology of her missions better than most of her SHIELD observers, and kept himself out of her way. Sitwell, like most of the Ops division, often lacked subtlety and patience.

At the small market she bought a few groceries and returned to the cottage. Luke was asleep, on his back, boots off the end of the bed as if someone had taught him not to put his shoes on a clean bedding, but they'd been too difficult to remove. His injured arm was tucked close to him, but the other gripped the pillow in a fist.

She called the monitor line so SHIELD could listen in and record. Then, with her foot, she shut the door loudly.

He stirred, blinking himself awake blearily. "What- Natalya? Did I fall asleep? How strange... What is that noise?" he complained, groaning, and pressed his forehead with his good hand. She had no idea what noise he was talking about, but he seemed confused. He looked at her, and shook his head more alert. "Oh. I see you brought food."

"Yes, if you're hungry." She set the crackers, cheese, and pickled fish on the table and held up the bottle of berry juice. "You should drink this."

While he was moving himself to the small table with much pained hissing, she set the phone on the table – the screen was dark so it would look off – and sat down across from Loki to start opening the packages.

"How are you feeling after your nap?" she asked, pushing the crackers to him.

He rubbed at his eyes, one-handed. "Does napping truly make people refreshed?" he asked. "Because I feel more tired than I was before."

"You did have some blood loss. Eat the crackers, too, that'll help."

He nibbled on the crackers and sipped the juice. "So, are we safe here?" he asked.

"I think so," she answered. "There are many small towns, and SHIELD can't search them all. They'll wait for us to surface."

He glowered at the plastic knife he was supposed to use for spreading the soft cheese and gripped it like he wanted to stab someone with it. "I only wanted them to leave. And now they've gone and ruined everything."

She winced inwardly. "I think if you leave town and lay low for awhile, you can come back. I don't think they're very interested in you; you were interfering in what they were investigating." That was a lie, because SHIELD was interested in this person who had assaulted their agents. But she thought Fury would probably let it go, if she proved that Luke had meant well and once she unearthed his true identity.

Luke didn't volunteer that he'd assaulted two agents and that maybe they were interested in him for a good reason. He just sighed. "I hope that's true."

"So what did you see of what they're doing?"

He shrugged. "Little. In the mountains they have some tents set up where lightning struck. They seemed very interested in it. And I heard one of them say that they suspected there might be a device that made the storm or the lightning? But they found nothing. So I suppose when they find out it was just a freak of nature, they'll go."

Natasha thought back to the photo she had seen of the site. "You think it was natural?"

"What else could it be?" he returned and started eating out of the jar of pickled fish when Natasha declined sharing with a shake of her head. "Are you sure? It is delicious."

Pickled fish reminded her of times she didn't care to remember, so she gestured a pass. "No device?" she asked. "You saw nothing out of the ordinary at the work site?"

"Aside from a bunch of foreigners camping in a place they had no business being, no."

She spread some cheese on another cracker to give herself time to think. "You saw no pattern? I was told there was a pattern in the burnt soil."

He snagged another piece of fish and chewed it. "A pattern?" he echoed. "Not that I saw."

Had he truly not seen it, or was he lying to her to make it sound uninteresting? He had acknowledged he didn't want any foreigner hanging around, so it was in his interest to lie about it. He was good though, nothing in his attitude gave it away. She tested lightly, "Strange they should defend _nothing_ so vigorously."

He laughed dryly. "You see why I want them out."

A nicely non-revealing answer. "You're from Arendelle?" she asked. "You seem very defensive of it."

"From Genovia," he corrected, to her surprise. "My mother's family was from here though, and I'm becoming a citizen."

"Oh, I see. I like Genovia. The mountains and cathedral are so pretty."

His eyes flipped up to her, hooded, and a slow smile formed on his lips. "You are mistaken. Genovia is on the coast. You're thinking Andorra perhaps?" He asked the question deliberately, knowing very well that she had tried to make him betray himself with ignorant agreement.

She chuckled. "Just checking." She leaned back and regarded him openly. "You are an enigma, Luke. What's your real name?"

His smile, if anything, grew more amused. "Luke is my name, Natalya."

She raised her brows and called him out on that one. "You can't even bring yourself to lie that it's your 'real' name."

With a studied deliberation, he took another cracker and answered, "It's not the only name I've had, but it is the only name that matters now."

The admission had the ring of truth to it, that at least he believed it. She nodded slowly in understanding. "All right. Fair enough."

His gaze flipped up to meet hers, surprised that she was letting it go. Of course, she had no intention of letting it go, but she needed time to come at the question from another way.

She shifted the conversation to the food, as he finished it off, and then when he went into the bathroom to wash his hands, she dumped sleeping pill powder in his juice. He was competent enough to take the car and leave her here if he could, and she was suspicious that he was going to try it. It was better for both of them if he didn't try.

She was standing by the window when he came out, and she heard him finish off the juice before tossing it in the bin. She let the corners of her mouth twist up in a bit of satisfaction at her reflection before turning. "Want to take a walk by the water?"

"Why, that sounds quite romantic, Natalya," he teased.

"If you want it to be," she returned lightly, testing. If that's what he wanted, she could do that to get closer to him.

"With someone as lovely as you, I would be honored," he responded, but as he gestured for her to precede him out the door, he kept his distance, not touching her.

"Do you want your jumper?" she asked. "The sea breeze isn't very warm."

He shrugged one-shoulder uncaring, so she shrugged back. If he wanted to go outside shirtless it was not her problem. And it turned out he didn't seem to mind, lifting his face at the sea, and letting the wind blow back his hair. There was something about his profile then, the high forehead and thin face that tickled her with its familiarity. Had she seen him, or his photo, before?

He stood at the rock-strewn edge, facing the water. This deep within the fjord there was little wave action, the water swirling gently among the rocks. Most men of his physique would be shirtless deliberately, as a ploy to attempt to seduce her, though he seemed uncaring of whether she was looking or not. Instead he watched the sun play on the water, a frown drawing his brows together and his mind apparently far away from this place.

"Euro for your thoughts?" she asked.

He chuckled. "Ah, that is too much. A pebble, perhaps, is all they're worth."

She bent to scoop a rock off the ground and held it out to him. Bemused, he took it and tossed it into the water. She watched his form as he threw – he had an interesting side-throwing technique, with a practiced grace to his motions, and he shifted the rest of his body reflexively to the action.

"Memories of the past: so cheap to acquire and yet so expensive to leave behind," he murmured, apparently all the answer her rock paid for. He relaxed enough he let out a yawn. He chuckled afterward. "Getting shot is more fatiguing than I would've expected."

"Let's get you back, and you can rest."

She helped him with his boots this time and watched him fall asleep, feeling faintly guilty that she was drugging him, but it was for the best. He had one moment where he jerked back awake, eyes flaring with fear as if he realized his tiredness wasn't natural, but it passed and he was soon breathing heavily.

She pulled the blanket up over him and plucked his wallet out of his back pocket. It was mostly empty except for two stolen credit cards in SHIELD agents' names, some cash, and an ID card in the name of Luke Rendell.

She texted the name and number on the card to SHIELD, and was not surprised that the answer came back:

" _New identification issued yesterday. Reported theft of previous ID and citizenship in Genovia. In process for Arendelle asylum_."

As he'd all-but admitted, "Luke Rendell" was as fake as Natalie Rushman. The only interesting thing in the rest of the report was that the police had run his fingerprints through the system and come up empty. SHIELD would start running the prints and facial recognition through their larger database, which might yield some interesting results if he was known to them.

She put the wallet back, without letting him stir at the touch, and stretched out in the other bed. Propping her hand under her head, she looked at him. Operational expertise, yet occasional bursts of complete ignorance, and a lack of a verifiable history. What did it mean?

She frowned, replaying their conversation and what little she knew about him. What if... he had lost his memory? He hadn't said so, but he didn't trust her so why would he? Was there some agency or organization out there, who had scrubbed him and dropped him here to fend for himself? That was possible, but it was also possible she was trying too hard to make him familiar to her, making him a refugee from something like Red Room? Or was there some truth to that instinct? Something had to explain his skills and yet why he was such a blank slate.

But the answers would not be found staring at him. She needed to rest, while he was asleep.

* * *

Waking when he stirred to stumble his way to the restroom, she indulged in a yawn and sat up to check her phone. Just after six in the morning, and she had one message that SHIELD's fingerprint and facial recognition systems had found nothing.

It wasn't a surprise, but it did put a hole in her Working for Another Agency theory. On the plus side, it probably also meant he wasn't working for Ten Rings or some other terrorist or criminal organization, if SHIELD had no intel on him.

Something dropped to the floor in the restroom, and he yelped as if it had fallen on his toe. She snickered to herself before knocking. "You all right in there?"

He pulled the door open a crack to glare at her. "Fine, but this..." he lifted his injured arm at the shoulder, "still hurts, and made me drop the hand soap. And also, I appear to be growing a beard, which is not a good look for me, and this whole business is simply intolerable." The door shut in her face, leaving her blinking in surprise.

"Oookay, someone needs coffee." Tragically there was no coffee maker in the cabin, so she hoped there was some in the office, because clearly Luke was not a morning person.

He was in a better mood by the time she came back with coffee in mugs, and dressed again in his sweater. The left sleeve was stiff with dried blood, but he'd shoved his arm through it anyway.

At the table, over the coffee and the leftover food, she smiled brightly, "So I was thinking we keep our heads down in the village today, wash out your jumper, and tomorrow drive to Oslo-"

"No," he said firmly, and glanced at his arm. "I need to take care of this."

"I know it hurts," she said, "but it'll heal..."

He snorted. "Too slowly. It needs better tending, and I need to meet someone. So either you drive me there, or drop me off in Arendelle and I'll find my own transportation."

"Better tending, hm? You're welcome," she said dryly, but the sarcasm went right past him. "All right, I'll take you."

This was curious, that he needed to see someone. Who could he mean?

* * *

... tbc...


	6. A Blast from the Past

NOTE: _Frozen_ crossover still lingering. Bet you didn't think anything besides the name of "Arendelle" would appear again, did you? lol Enjoy!

* * *

 **CHAPTER SIX**

 **A Blast from the Past**

 **.**

North of Arendelle town, Natasha drove slowly, as Luke didn't seem to know exactly where to go.

Luke frowned out the window as the road wound its way upward. "It's been a long time," he muttered.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

He ignored the question, huffing out, "This is impossible." He opened his seatbelt then the sunroof, climbed up on the seat, and stood up, so more than half of him was outside the car.

"What the hell are you doing?" she demanded, blurting it out in surprise.

"Trying to see!" he answered, shouting against the wind, then he dropped back into the seat. "I saw the marker finally. Pull off the road at the next valley."

She did so, despite the fact that there appeared to be nothing there, just wilderness heading off toward the higher mountains.

Luke muttered something in a language she didn't recognize and shoved open the car door. "Stay here," he ordered her curtly. "I will return." He stalked off down the valley, disappearing into the bushes and thin green-leafed trees.

She waited until he was out of sight and then followed. Where was he going? Some sort of weapons cache? Secret meeting place?

Instead, he wound up in a deep ravine. It seemed to be a dead end and mostly grass and stone, with no taller plants between the high cliff walls. She stopped and observed from behind a stone as his stalking pace slowed. The valley was dotted with a great many rocks, rounded from rain and ancient glaciers. Some were moss-covered, or had small plants growing in their crevices.

He wandered through the stones and called, "Papi! Papi, I need to speak with you."

She frowned. 'papi' sounded like 'father'. Was he calling on his father? A real person, or was he praying? It didn't really sound like a prayer though as his tone became more irritable. "Papi! I know you can hear me. You know who I am."

Was there someone else here he was supposed to meet? But she saw no one in the field of small round stones.

"You're an odd duck," she murmured.

"He's not a duck, silly," said a voice under her elbow. Natasha scrambled back, away from the stone, looking frantically for the owner of the voice. How could anyone have gotten so close? Or be so small to hide behind that stone without her seeing them? She wished for her gun, as she pulled the knife in her boot and held it at…

… the rock?

With a soft grumble, the stone she had previously been leaning against unfolded and turned around, to display a face. Head. Arms. Legs. It was small and oddly proportioned, but clearly person-like.

She stared. Her stomach went tight. She'd known there were non-humans in the universe. She'd thought she was prepared for non-humans. She'd been ready.

She wasn't ready.

The rock person's large eyes blinked at her.

But Natasha was no longer looking at that one, as beyond it- him?- all the round stones of the valley were also rolling. Unfolding. Waking. Round stones were turning into people.

Luke had gassed her with a hallucinogen. That was the only logical explanation.

In the middle of the small rock people, Luke was a giant, especially as all of them bowed to him. She was definitely dreaming this.

"Son of Odin," one greeted him, looking up at him.

Luke looked pained. "I told you, Papi, not to call me that."

"A truth refused is still a truth."

"And who refuses it more than he does?" Luke retorted sharply.

"You," Papi returned, and Natasha was impressed by the small person's courage in the face of Luke's obvious anger.

"I know the truth. And I am not here for recriminations." Luke lowered himself to one knee. He was still taller than "papi", but they were a little closer to eye-level. "My powers are bound. I need you to free them."

Papi squinted at him, reading deeply, then stepped back. "The All-father's work. I cannot."

"Cannot. Or will not?" Luke asked, his tone low and dangerous.

"Cannot," Papi repeated and met his eyes. "Only you can unbind the working."

Luke's lip curled in disgust or annoyance. "You mean _him_."

"I mean, you. Your powers will be freed when your heart thaws. Not before."

"My heart is just fine. I'll find another way. Can you heal the arm? Or is that too beyond you, suddenly?" Luke demanded with bitter heat.

Papi put small hands above the wound in Luke's arm and Natasha didn't know if she was really seeing any of this at all, but it looked like there was a … blue glow around his hand.

"There," Papi said, but didn't lift his hands away. "You know the answer. Love. Love is all-"

Luke yanked free and grabbed Papi by the throat, as he stood up, lifting him clear off the ground to look in his eyes. "Do not press me," he whispered in a dark threat. "I did that. For _nothing_. I will not do it again." He dropped Papi to the ground. Natasha was relieved the little creature seemed unharmed, only anxious.

"She would never want this!" Papi objected to his back as he started away.

Luke stopped, posture rigid. "Do not speak to me of her."

Papi raised a hand, and all the little creatures copied the motion, each small hand shooting off a stream of colored light. All the lights combined overhead to form a gleaming image, like a television screen in the air. Luke tilted his head back to watch as one horse drew an open-carriage, bearing a coffin draped in the flag of Arendelle. His inhalation was ragged as he recognized it, and his lips parted.

"You were there," Papi said gently. "No one else saw you."

The image changed to the interior of a church, the coffin lying in state. Behind it was a wood-paneled wall, carved into a large tree in partial relief, and a phantom transparent image of Luke stepped from the tree. He wore all-black clothes of an old style, and he seemed to be alone as he approached the coffin. The ghostly Luke trailed a hand across the coffin, until his hand stilled, his knees gave way and he collapsed before it. She couldn't see his face, but she could see the curve to his shoulders and back as he leaned into the coffin, one hand still flat and desperate on its smooth surface. It was a posture of such grief, it made her heart hurt to see it, aching with sympathy of his pain.

"Why are you showing me this?" Luke whispered.

"Because your companion needs to know," Papi said. Natasha started as the stone person's eyes found her. She stood and moved within the crowd of the aliens. Luke saw her and seemed only wearily resigned that she had followed him.

"He has a heart," Papi said to her, "He's only forgotten it. Pain and loss turned it to ice, but love can melt a frozen heart."

She lifted her brows, wondering why he was telling her this. Did he know that she had been sent to observe Luke and figure out how dangerous he was?

He didn't look dangerous at the moment at all, his eyes lifted again to the funeral scene above until it flickered out. The moment passed and his expression hardened. "Spare me the sentiment, troll," Luke sneered. "If you can't help me, I will find one who can."

He whirled around and stalked past her to leave. Papi called after him, "Only you can, you know this."

Luke flicked glinting eyes over his shoulder. "We shall see," he drawled coldly. "I would take care of her, Papi. She has masters you would not like."

Alarmed, wondering what exactly 'take care of her' meant, she scanned the little creatures.

Papi's eyes met hers. "Help him," he urged her. "Help and perhaps this Realm will be saved."

"From what?" she asked.

"From him. From worse than him. From powers great and terrible that even now turn their eyes to this world." Papi looked upward, and this time, when she looked up the sky was dark as night with more stars in it than she had ever seen before. And yet, she felt _eyes_ ; someone or something evil was watching.

She felt cold and her fingers tightened on the knife hilt, even if it would be useless against that terrifying power out there. Watching.

The sky returned to normal, reassuring blue before she was sure she'd seen it.

"But I think he is right; you are not yet ready," Papi said, a little sadly.

"Ready for what?" she demanded and backed away, holding her knife tightly though she doubted it would be any use. "What are you doing?"

He lifted his little arm and pointed it at her. "Take the magic, leave the feeling. Take the magic, leave the truth. Remember only the ordinary..."

"No, no, what are you doing? No! Don't!" She couldn't move, could barely force out the protests, though she wasn't sure what he was going to do.

His hand glowed blue, and a stream of light flowed out of it at her, but its touch was gentle as a stream of warm water. It wound around her, rising, shining bright in her eyes...

She gasped and blinked.

Why was she staring at an empty valley of rocks? Something teased at her about this valley, and the rocks, as if there was something... but it was an ordinary ravine with some glacier-smoothed rocks. It was a bit weird that Luke had met his doctor contact way out here, but with SHIELD after him he couldn't meet in town, either, so that made sense. Didn't it?

Shouldn't she have seen him leave? It didn't seem right that she had missed him. But at least "Papi" had shared the truth that Luke had lost someone close to him, given her a little insight into his past. That was probably the trigger that had resulted in his arrival in Arendelle.

Luke. Damn it, he was probably halfway to the car by now, she needed to catch him and make sure he didn't strand her here in the middle of nowhere. She raced after him.

He wasn't far and waited for her when she called his name. He held himself tensely, awaiting what she would say.

"I'm sorry about your loss," she told him. "Is she why you're here?"

His eyes sought the western horizon across the tumbled hills in the direction of the sea. "Broadly speaking, yes."

"Your wife?" she guessed.

He shook his head, lips flickering in a humorless ironic smile. "Daughter."

"Oh, I'm sorry. That's... tragic." He wasn't that old, so the daughter would've been young when she died. Children were such delicate losses.

"It was long ago," he said dismissively. "Papi can't help me, so I need to find someone who can."

As she opened the car door and slid behind the wheel, she thought about what that meant. "You're not planning to attack SHIELD any more?"

He lifted his left arm in demonstration. "This was a lesson I cannot take on such a large organization as I am. I will give them time to leave Arendelle on their own, and if they choose not to, then... they are true invaders. I will not stay my hand again."

That was a dramatic way to say that he was going to leave SHIELD alone. That much of her mission was accomplished. She still had to find out who he was, and she thought she should stay with him to do that. Help him, and let him reveal himself to her when he trusted her.

"Where do we go then?" she asked.

"We?" he repeated, surprised. "You can drop me back in town and return to your own business. You were investigating SHIELD, were you not? And I am of little help to you in that endeavour."

"I was, but you're more interesting," she said. "You're a mystery, Luke. Who are you?"

He shrugged and countered, "No one interesting."

"Who were you?" she persisted.

He stared out the window. "Someone who does not exist. A phantom."

She growled a bit in her throat of frustration. "You're making me more curious. Just tell me."

That lightened him up and he smirked at her. "You would never believe the truth."

"No? Try me. I've seen a lot."

His gaze turned more appraising. "Well, perhaps you have. But it is a secret I should keep."

That was interesting, because that meant he knew who he had been and he was refusing to tell her. She needed to gain his trust more fully. First thing, she would play to his amusement, because he clearly enjoyed having a secret from her. She smacked his shoulder. "You are so annoying." His smirk widened. "So. You didn't say. Where to?"

"Town," he answered. "I need a new shirt."

Not the answer she'd expected, but certainly true. The sweater was too clearly blood-stained, even on the brown coloring. But 'in town' meant she needed to stay suspicious for her cover. "But what if they're there? We could drive to Oslo."

He lifted his brows at her. "Won't they watch the border? I would."

She had to nod, because Arendelle didn't have a lot of ways in and out, and SHIELD was watching all of them.

"With a new shirt I will be less recognizable," he offered. "Also, the blood is starting to smell."

She couldn't disagree with that, and at his direction took the road back to town and used a more circuitous route to a secondary street where there was a charity shop. She followed him in, noting when he touched an khaki military-type jacket with nostalgic look on his face, but he moved on to pull some other shirts off the rack and started to change right there. She met his eyes and nodded toward the curtained changing booth. Looking irritated as if that was absurd, he followed her direction anyway.

He changed in the booth and walked out in a new shirt. If his intent was to be inconspicuous, the shirt was not going to help that. It was a deep green button-front shirt that flowed and shimmered like silk, and fit his torso like it had been made for him.

She did a poor job of hiding her reaction, as he grinned at her. "It fits. Does it not?"

"It does," she agreed and let her face soften in admiration. "It looks good on you."

He'd pushed his hair off his face while trying things on, and his features teased her with familiarity.

As he paid for the shirt and a black t-shirt, she frowned at his profile, cursing Red Room and its mental games that made her memory unreliable of anything before meeting Barton on that fateful day.

I have seen you before, somewhere, I know I have.

But his face gave no answer as they went out on the sidewalk. "Back to the car?" she asked.

He shook his head. "I need to go to the library."

Astonished, she asked, "The library? Why?"

"I need to find an answer, and that seems to be the only place to start," he said. "But you need not tend me. It will take time and likely be quite tedious."

She shrugged. "I'll follow for now."

The library seemed old and small from the outside, but inside, it opened up in a much larger, more modern space of glass and wood, rising on several levels. He stepped inside and looked all around, the small smile on his lips a rare genuine expression. "So many books," he murmured. "I could spend all day here."

She smiled indulgently. "I can tell. Go on, I'll find you." Like a dog let off a leash, he hurried into the stacks and she trailed behind him. At first she kept track of what he looked at, but gave up when he pulled books off the shelf at random, regardless of what language they were in or topic. It was as if he'd never seen so many books before and needed to look at them all.

She pulled out her phone to check it, texting, " _In town. Identity still unknown, military service indicated_."

The answer came back, " _If subject threat 0, mission terminated_."

She sent back hastily, " _Tell Cmd: until identify verified, need to stay on mission_."

" _Your discretion_ ," he replied, and she wanted to heave a sigh of relief that she wasn't pulled. Not now, not so close. Every instinct wanted to stay on this and solve the mystery. He claimed otherwise, but she knew his past was important. She needed to know who he was.

He'd gotten out of sight, and for a moment she feared he'd taken his chance to dump her. But she found him in the science and technology section and he seemed to be going through that with more focused intent.

He was examining books in the history of science, tomes about early science when alchemy and astronomy had been cousin disciplines. That tickled her memory, too. He took some books off the shelf, thumbed through them, and put them back. Some he sneered at and let fall to the floor like trash. Whatever he was looking for, he didn't find it.

Moving to the more modern science section, he piled a few to the side as if he might want to look at them more closely, and then knelt to look at the lower shelf where the larger ones were kept. He went utterly still. The reaction was so abrupt Natasha glanced around in alarm thinking he might have been struck by some weapon, but then he whispered something under his breath and reached to take a book off the shelf.

She moved closer to watch. He seemed to be touching it carefully, letting it sit on his knee to look at the cover.

Loki opened the cover slowly, as if he feared something within. His fingers were trembling. The first few pages of writing didn't seem to bother him, but when he reached a page with a small drawing on it, he drew in a sharp breath.

He closed the book gently and lifted it to his chest, cradling it in his fingers, and the look on his face was devastated.

"Luke?" Natasha asked. "What is it? Did you find it?"

"I need this book," he declared, his voice low and ragged.

"Can I see it?" she asked. Without relinquishing it, he turned it around so she could see the cover. It said, " _A Rabbit's Guide to the Universe_ " and had a drawing of little rabbits lying on their backs looking up at the stars and looking through a telescope. It was a cute picture, but his reaction clearly had nothing to do with the actual content. "You've seen it before?" she asked.

He gave a torn little laugh. "Oh yes." A deep breath restored him and he said in a more normal tone, "I thought it was lost." Turning the book around to look at the cover himself, he said, "Elliot Randolph, Ed. What does that mean? 'ed'?"

"Editor," she answered.

"Ah, yes, of course."

"Is that what you were looking for?" she asked, but he shook his head.

"No. Better."

"May I?" she asked and took the book from him. He didn't want to let it go at first, fingers clutching the spine until he visibly forced them to open. Flipping to the back she looked for the "about the author" section and read, "Elliot Randolph, professor of Norse mythology at the University of Seville. That's in-"

"Spain, yes, I know." He stood up and plucked the book from her. "I want to meet this Professor Randolph."

The offer emerged instinctively. "I can take you."

He frowned at her. "Why?"

The real reason was because she needed to figure him out. If they went their separate ways, he would disappear, and she knew with some deep instinct, that she didn't want that to happen. But she answered, "Because SHIELD is still on our tail, and we might as well stick together. I can mislead them we're going East, where I have more contacts. They'll never guess Spain."

"How will we get there? Train?"

Ordinarily she would say yes, but Seville was a long way. "Airplane."

He frowned. "Will they not be watching the airport?"

"Yes, probably." He was catching on, she thought. It would only take a mistake to blow this open. At her next check-in, she needed to get Sitwell to get approval to tell Luke the truth before this went pear shaped. Luke was too clever to buy this much longer. "They think we're traveling by car. So as long as I lay a false trail it'll buy us some time."

"We could board a plane going elsewhere and force it to change course to Seville," Luke offered.

Hijack a plane… that would be a bit difficult to explain. Dangerous, and might put others on their tail they didn't want there. She was also disturbed at the casual way he suggested it, as if there was nothing dangerous about it at all. "That's an option, but let's try being sneaky," she suggested. "First task is to get you a passport."

"How?"

"I think we can get the Arendelle authority to expedite your real one. I have a few contacts, let me see what I can do."

He nodded, with no real choice but to go along with her plan, even if he looked doubtful she could pull it off. But he didn't know her contacts were SHIELD, and SHIELD could make him a passport and dump it into the Arendelle system by morning. Sometimes it was very handy working for a legitimate agency, rather than freelance.

Luke wanted to take the book, and did not understand how libraries worked until she explained the process to him. While he was filling out the form to become a member, she called Sitwell. It felt odd to be doing it openly, but it was for the best.

" _Agent Romanoff_?" he sounded surprised, and she buried a smile.

"I need you to expedite a passport for Luke Rendell so we can pick it up tomorrow morning," she instructed. Dead silence for several seconds. She buried a smile. "Sitwell, are you still there?"

" _Why does he need a passport_?"

"We're going to Spain."

" _Spain. Why on Earth does he need to go to Spain_?"

The answer of chasing down the author of a children's science book seemed unlikely to get her the passport, so she answered, "I don't know, that's why I need to go there with him. There's something going on, Sitwell. But he's agreed to leave SHIELD alone for now, and do this other project. So, get him a passport in their system, legit, by morning."

She hung up quickly as Luke came to her with his precious book, and a small card he held up for her inspection. "Look, I am a member of this library! I can borrow books for as long as six weeks, longer if I renew on the internet," he said proudly. "I am an actual citizen."

She had to smile back, thinking back to how good it had felt that first time she had filled out her forms for SHIELD with 'Natasha Romanoff' as her name. It hadn't been the name, but the pedestrian filling out of forms that had made her feel real. She had changed from a shadowy citizen of nowhere, to having an actual place to belong. So she understood his enthusiasm.

"Better than a library card, I have been promised we can pick up your passport tomorrow morning."

He frowned. "A real one? Or a fake?"

"Real. You're in the system, so it'll be real. Just... quick."

"Oh, good." He looked down at his book, excitement fading from his posture. "So I have to wait to speak to Randolph."

"A little while. Did you find what else you were looking for?"

"No. But this is more important," he said shortly.

She frowned. A beginning science book, basically "science for kids", published at least ten years ago, was so important?

But no answers were forthcoming as they found something to eat and a b&b room to share, paying cash as if still on the run.

* * *

The book.

Loki didn't want to let it out of his sight, even though it was a copy of the original. It was not even in the original language, having been translated into English, but still, it was Elsa's book.

Randolph must have the original to have published this copy. It burned Loki's blood to think that Elsa's book was not in Arendelle. It belonged here, to King Haakon and his children, not to some random mortal who had probably stolen it in the first place.

He was going to return Elsa's book. His powers would have to wait.

But after the book was home... he would need sorcerers. Not the stage magicians with their sleight of hand and technical wizardry, he needed true magic. There was true magic on Midgard, some he'd left there himself, but what there was, was in hiding. The irony was if he had magic, he could find more, but without, it was a difficult quest. He needed a better way to search it out than old books in a library.

He laughed to himself. Perhaps this professor would be able to help him find the ones he needed. He might be as easy to lure with tidbits of the truth as Natalya was. She wanted to know who he was, and he'd nearly laughed out loud when she had walked past an entire shelf of books devoted to the Ice Demon. He'd wanted desperately to see what ridiculous lies the mortals had come up with about him, but didn't dare touch the books with Natalya nearby.

There would be time later, after she was no longer useful. She was getting him his passport from Arendelle, and with that, he could travel more freely, including Switzerland. If one of his accounts still existed, he would have money, too. He would have an identity, a homeland, money to live on... So much for punishment.

The thought reminded him of Thor, and he wondered how his brother was faring, wherever he was. Loki had landed someplace familiar; hopefully Thor had, too. If not, Thor was probably already drinking in some inn with new friends. That was what he did.

Thor was all right, Loki was sure of that, unable to really conceive of a situation he would not be, even in a strange place. And like Loki, he was probably thinking that this 'banishment' was hardly punishment at all.

* * *

... tbc...


	7. The Professor

NOTE: while not a vital thing to know, I feel I should tell you in this 'verse, Randolph isn't the expert consulted about the hammer. That's someone else. just FYI.

enjoy! always happy to hear from readers, btw! 

* * *

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

 **The Professor**

 **.**

Luke presented his brand new passport to the attendant at airport check-in with a broad grin. "It's new. Today," he told her. "I got to be a citizen and everything. It was so exciting."

She smiled at him. "Congratulations. But you're leaving so soon?"

"But then I get to come back," he told her with relish, and she laughed, but kindly.

"Enjoy your flight, Mister Rendell. We hope to see you home soon."

At the jetway entrance, Luke turned around to look back. "I feel as though I am abandoning her again," he murmured.

"Her?" Natasha repeated.

He took a moment to answer. "Arendelle."

Natasha wasn't sure he'd meant a personification of the country or someone in particular, but either way his mood shifted as soon as he saw the seats. "This?" he asked her dubiously. "This is where we are to sit?"

She looked at him; he sounded like he'd never been on a plane before. But in case she was misunderstanding, she pointed, "Here. Eleven-D and E. You can have the aisle since you have long legs."

"But these are so small," he complained.

Heaving a sigh, she sat down in the window seat. "It's coach class. And you didn't pay for it, so sit down."

He finally took the seat, and he sat very tense during taxi. His fingers clutched the arms of the chair when the grinding noise of the flaps going down vibrated through their seats.

She leaned closer. "Are you _afraid_ of flying?" she asked, trying not to be mocking but clearly failing by the incensed look on his face.

"This... _craft_ is primitive," he bit out, "and noisy. Barely improved upon a design from sixty years ago. It is amazing they fly at all."

Her lips twitched into a smile. "You're scared."

"I am not. I am quite logically _concerned_ that we will plummet to the ground and _die_."

Chuckling, she laid a hand over his very tense one. "It's okay. I can hold your hand if you like. We'll be fine. It's very safe to fly these days."

" _Safe_ ," he repeated in scorn. "Primitive death contraptions."

"So curmudgeonly," she teased lightly. "It's a short flight, Luke, we'll be in Paris soon."

"And then we have to fly another of these monstrosities to Seville," he pointed out and sounded plaintive. But before she could answer, the engines revved up and they were taking off.

His grip on armrest tightened beneath her hand, and his lips tightened as if he was suppressing the urge to vomit. He was truly bothered by flying. She rubbed the back of his hand, as the plane lifted up in the air. "We're on the way."

When the flight attendant came by, Luke tried to decline anything, but Natasha ordered him a gin and tonic. The attendant saw he was distressed, despite his attempt to pretend he was fine, and she brought it quickly with a sympathetic smile.

"You _work_ on this aircraft?" he demanded of her incredulously. "I salute your courage."

"It's not so bad," she said and suggested, "Think of it as no different than a bus. We'll be in Paris before you know it."

Downing the drink helped him ease his grip on the armrests and he drew a deeper breath. To her surprise he didn't seem to have a problem looking through the window, as they followed the coast. His problem wasn't fear of heights, only the plane itself. "The land doesn't change," he murmured. "Politics, people, these things are similar, but they do change. But the land is the same."

"You've been to Arendelle before."

"In my youth."

"That's why you came back. Were you born there?" She knew he'd told Arendelle that he'd been born in Genovia, but that was obviously a lie.

He shook his head. "No. A place not that dissimilar," he murmured. "But far less welcoming."

 _A northern or mountainous European country with dubious politics or war_ , she translated silently. He had to be near her age, born after 1980, in the Soviet bloc perhaps, with a youthful visit to Arendelle as soon as the borders opened? Or perhaps he had visited with parents who were diplomats or performers. Arendelle kept good records, so she would have SHIELD analysts figure out some possibles. There couldn't be that many.

She was gradually narrowing down his identity, and yet, as they approached Paris and he downed his second drink to handle the landing, she glanced at her companion and remembered Fury's interest. What did Luke know about the 'lightning' that wasn't? And was he involved with it?

* * *

SHIELD beat them to Seville, as she saw Sitwell through the glass outside the small border enforcement and customs area. Seville was also a military base, and likely a quinjet was parked there, out of sight. Luke was still at passport control and didn't see Sitwell, but she wanted to roll her eyes or stab an irritated text message about how he shouldn't be in view at all, in case Luke could recognize him.

But thankfully Sitwell moved off before Luke joined her, and she was all smiles. She rented a car so small Luke's knees touched the dash with the passenger seat as far back as it would go, and drove it to the university. They found their way to the office of Professor Randolph. He did not appear to be there, and Natasha picked the lock when Luke seemed as if he was about to force it open.

The office was small, hemmed in by full bookshelves, and cold from the air conditioner being on in such a confined space. There was a single window and a large desk with a computer and piles of papers.

There were photographs of larger statues and carved stones and a dagger on a display stand on the shelf by the door. Near the desk was a whole shelf of similar books - all copies in different languages of "The Rabbit's Guide to the Universe." Luke swept a finger down the shelf, looking at all the copies, and he turned his attention to books with older bindings, looking at each one before piling it on the desk.

"What are we looking for?" she asked.

"The original," he answered curtly. "He has it. He must. I want it."

"Are we stealing it?" She didn't particularly care either way, but she was curious what Luke's answer would be.

"He is returning it to its rightful owner," Luke answered with cold precision.

Five minutes later, it was plainly not there. She surveyed the mess they'd made of the office. She suggested, "Perhaps it's at his home. Or in the university library. But it's not here."

"I will have to ask him where it is." Luke's voice was calm and resolute, with an undertone of cold threat to it that suggested he was not going to tolerate resistance or objection. She didn't offer any, either, but made sure she was with him to keep him under control.

The professor lived in an apartment in one of the walk-ups not far from the university. Getting in the gate was easy, and they went up the stairs to find 313.

Natasha knocked on the door loudly and made sure to stand in the fisheye, putting on her 'eager student' face.

The professor called something muffled from within, and then she heard footsteps approaching on the other side.

But Luke didn't wait; he put a hand on the door and pushed. With a terrible screech of metal, the deadbolt was shoved right through the wooden housing of the door as if the wood was cardboard. Natasha was stunned by the display of strength - he hadn't even seemed to exert himself. How strong was he?

Luke sauntered through the open doorway. "Professor Randolph. It is time you and I spoke."

Natasha didn't know what she expected but the balding man pressed up against the wall, was not it. He wasn't Spanish, but more paler northern European originally. And he stared at Luke with wide eyes, terrified of this person who crashed through his front door.

When Luke got a good view of him, he stopped and said, "Oh. Now I see. Professor of _Norse Mythology_. Very droll." He paused and lifted his chin, squaring his shoulders, and seemed to fill the hallway. "Do you know who I am?" he demanded, in a voice grown haughty and cold.

"I… do." Professor Randolph closed his eyes, brows knitting, before his whole manner collapsed into defeat. Then he straighted up from the wall, put one fist across his chest in a salute, and bowed his head. "My prince."

Natasha barely kept her eyebrows from climbing into her hair at the title. _Prince_? Prince of what?

Luke seemed to take it as expected that the professor would call him that. "Excellent. You have something of mine. I want it back."

Randolph didn't need to be told what that was. "This way. I… didn't think you would return," Randolph explained, and started down the narrow hall.

"It was something of a surprise to me, as well," Luke said dryly as he followed the professor, leaving Natasha to shut the door as best she could. The hall opened up in a large main room, with several windows and a balcony overlooking the back garden of the building, and a high ceiling. There were many books on the shelves that lined the inner walls: some arranged neatly, others more haphazardly.

The professor peered at her curiously, frowning. "You are… not one."

"No, she's not. This is Natalya; she helped me get here. We've been keeping secrets from each other," Luke introduced her, and she almost choked on how true that was. So he did know something was up. But Luke didn't pursue that, instead asking Randolph, "Where did you get it?"

"It appeared during a rare books auction," he explained. "No one else knew what it was. So I bought it."

"It belongs to Arendelle," Loki said harshly. "Not you."

"Nazis would've looted and destroyed it," Randolph protested. "I kept it safe."

Nazis? She frowned at him skeptically, but Luke didn't seem to notice anything odd.

Randolph opened a safe hidden inside one section of shelves and pulled out a leather-bound book that he handed to Luke. The binding didn't seem familiar to Luke, who took it frowning, until he opened it. "Oh." He drew in a sharp ragged breath, and touched the page gently with his fingers. His knees buckled and he thumped down on the edge of the sofa, too enraptured by the sight of the page to remain standing. "I thought it was lost," he whispered, and his eyes grew wet. His fingers trembled, caressing the page. "This is the only thing on this world left of her."

She figured it out then; the book was connected to his daughter. It wasn't the content that was important; it was sentimental because of who had owned it.

"I know," Randolph said gently. "That was why I had to save it."

Luke bit his lip, and gasped out a sobbing breath, holding back tears. Natasha remembered the grief he'd shown in the valley and knew this was a part of that. She moved up closer to see that this book, unlike the printed copies, appeared to be written by hand in runic letters with small ink illustrations.

"Can I get you coffee?" Randolph asked her in a soft voice, trying to let Luke be. "I made some, just before you arrived."

"Yes, thank you," she said. Randolph nodded his head and went into the adjoining kitchen to bang around with cups and sugar bowls.

Natasha set a hand on Luke's shoulder. "You all right?"

Luke nodded and sniffed. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, breathing more easily. "She was so happy when she saw this."

Randolph returned with a tray which he set down on the side table, at Luke's elbow. Natasha made Luke's coffee with two sugar cubes, and handed it to him. He gave her an absent muttered thanks and sipped at it once, before putting it aside, still focused on the precious book on his lap. Natasha sat beside him with her own coffee.

"According to the inscription, you wrote this yourself," Randolph said, seating himself in the armchair opposite. "Is that true?"

"She wanted me to make my own book," Luke murmured, drawing a finger across the page. "So I did. I gave it to her and her daughter. It infuriates me to see copies of it lying on a shelf as if they're worthless."

'Her and her daughter' – his daughter's mother? But he should have said 'our' daughter, in that case. Perhaps the daughter was not his by blood.

But that was not the only mystery in the words. Luke had written the book _himself_? Those precisely inked runic letters were his hand? She was having trouble believing that. The book looked ancient.

"Not worthless," Randolph corrected. "It's not worthless to disseminate information. You taught me that."

Luke's face lifted sharply, surprised right out of his mourning. "What? I did?"

Randolph gave a tentative smile. "We were correspondents for a time. I was a student at Paris, Rolf Eremus."

Luke's gaze slid sideways as he frowned, trying to recall, then he had it, exclaiming, "He was you?" He burst into laughter. Randolph's smile widened and he relaxed, seeing that Luke wasn't angry. "You knew who I was?"

"Not at first. I thought you were an extraordinarily gifted scholar. We were supposed to meet in Paris, if you recall. I saw you, before you saw me, and then, yes, I recognized you."

"Yet you avoided me. The only one of your own kind on Midgard. Why?"

'Own kind' – that was odd phrasing. In conjunction with calling Luke a prince, were they part of a government or people in exile? Many had suffered under the Nazis and the Soviets, too.

Natasha stayed out of their direct notice, so they would keep talking and reveal to each other what they would not reveal to her.

"I was terrified," Randolph admitted. "I feared you'd force me back."

"Why would I do that?"

"Because I… am a deserter. I came with the Beserker army," he admitted. "I left them to stay here."

"Then?" Luke asked, sounding astonished. "You came _then_? That was the Kree Incursion, yes? You have been in this dull realm so long?"

"It isn't dull, my lord. Not to me. I was a stonemason before I joined the army. That was dull. But here, there is so much change. So much of interest to learn and to teach. I wanted to stay."

Luke glanced down at the book, frowning as he pondered. "Well, even if I were in a position to force you back, I would not," Luke said, rising to his feet, the book clasped against his chest. "You saved Elsa's book, and for that you have my gratitude. It is a pity you did not reveal yourself to me in Paris; I would have liked to know I was not alone."

He stepped away and she saw the flash of realization hit him, as a grin spread across his face. "Of course!" he laughed. "The Warrior who Stayed! Was you!"

Randolph nodded agreement reluctantly. "It was. But I am no warrior, now. I took up arts of peace long ago."

"No wonder you stayed here," Luke said and shook his head, still chuckling. "So I am not the only one with a legend. It never occurred to me to consider the source of that tale. I was more interested in the future than the past." Then he narrowed his eyes at Randolph. "Is it you I should blame for all the ridiculous tales they tell of me?"

Randolph flared back in worry and fear, raising his hands defensively. "No, my prince! I swear, my task has been more of true translations and history. I invented no tales, only collected them."

Luke seemed a bit dubious of that, but let it go. "I hope so."

Natasha knew at that point that there was no ordinary story that would explain everything they were saying. There was something very strange about both of them.

Luke set down the book carefully and wandered over to look at the shelves, either curious or bored, or both. "Are these your own scribings? These collections with other names?"

Randolph chuckled. "Yes, some of them. As many as I can find. A scholar is expected to have books, so it never seemed much risk."

Luke made a sort of non-committal noise, and kept prowling the books. Natasha watched him, with a sense of rueful affection. At least there were not so many books as at the library.

She reviewed what she had heard so far, but she wasn't sure how it all fit together. Arendelle, some military action called the "Kree Incursion" which she'd never heard of, Nazis… She needed to look at some of the books on the shelves herself, or at least pull out her phone and search some terms, but then Luke stopped, and tucked his hands behind his back as he looked at something on the shelf.

"You followed my exploits I see," he said eventually. His tone had changed, grown more controlled. He was angry and danger had crept into this room suddenly. Natasha stepped away from the shelf to give herself more room to maneuver.

Randolph didn't notice. He stood up, face lightening with eagerness. "How could I not? Once I knew who you were, it became a passion of mine, to trace where you were. There are hints you went to the Far East. I have a Persian travel account... In fact, since you're here, maybe you can verify..." He flipped through a pile of small, leather bound books on his table, looking for one in particular.

Luke drew a hand along the front of the shelves holding books with yellowed dust jackets. "Who else had access to this research before 1940?" he asked, his voice still pleasant but now taking on a chilly edge.

That, Randolph noticed and understood. He backed into the table, clutching one of the books to his chest. "No one."

Luke didn't believe him, stalking toward him, a panther with prey in his sights. "Rolf Eresmus. You used that name again, on those books over there. Published in the 20's, in German. You were known as an expert in Germanic history and the sagas, which the Nazis adored so very much." He stopped, looking down at the professor, and his face was pure cold rage. "I will ask you one more time - who had access to your research on me?"

Randolph folded. "He came to me in '35," Randolph whispered, eyes downcast. "Schmidt. And his henchman. Because I knew Old Norse and the old gods. He had heard of you and wanted to know more. I… I didn't understand what he was, not at first. He seemed a normal scholar."

Schmidt. Natasha felt cold, because that name she knew. The Red Skull of Hydra. And there was another name associated with Schmidt- the Ice Demon.

Luke Rendell. Lukas of Arendelle. He was the Ice Demon.

... tbc...


	8. The Ice Demon Returns

The dagger from Randolph's office was in Luke's hand, held reversed so the blade was hidden along his sleeve. She hadn't seen him take it. He accused Randolph, "You told him it was true. You told him about Arendelle."

"I said you were gone!" Randolph protested. "I told him you left when the Snow Queen died and the empty plate tradition was only a ceremony. That no one really expected you back! But he refused to believe me."

Luke was utterly still, listening to this with a frozen expression that did not at all hide the rage building within him. "He went to Arendelle because of you. He knew to find the tesseract there because of _you_. I thought he figured it out himself, that I left those footprints for him to follow, but he didn't have to because you did it for him!" He held his dagger out, as Randolph cowered backwards, holding his hands up.

"Luke!" Natasha said.

"This man got my people killed, Natalya."

That was probably the least of Luke's grievances, since she knew about his captivity by Hydra. She was impressed he was holding back at all.

Randolph fell to his knees. "Please, my lord, I meant no harm," he stammered and he added something in a language she didn't understand, something pleading and heartfelt. He bowed his head and fell silent.

"Luke." She came up to his other side, readying a hand to stop him, but he was hesitating, so she thought she should try words first. "If you kill him now, it's murder. You don't want to do that."

"It's an execution," he corrected. His left hand pulled Randolph's head back so he could put his dagger blade to his throat. "Justice for his _betrayal_."

"I know what happened. But Professor Randolph wasn't the one who did it. And he saved the book," she reminded him, hand on his back ready if she couldn't talk him down. "He saved _her_ book. Grant him mercy. You can do that."

He hesitated, hand shaking, before he pulled the blade away, with an angry, frustrated exclamation. Randolph slumped, letting out a breath of relief.

"She's right. You saved the book," Luke said. "For that, you live." The dagger slipped back under his coat. "But know this, if I find out you were a member of Hydra, or I find out you told him how to capture me-"

"No! My prince, no, I swear!"

"Or if you ever help my enemies again, I will see you dead. I will find you and tear you apart so nothing remains to find Valhalla, this I swear." He turned away and picked up the book and cradled it to his chest, heading for the door.

She followed, leaving Randolph on the floor, and they headed out into the street. "Luke."

He didn't stop, keeping a quick pace, and corrected her with a snort, "Lukas. You know who I am. And now you can tell your friends."

"Friends?" she repeated.

He whipped around, smile on his lips a vicious slash. "The ones you work for. The ones who listen to us on your phone."

She couldn't help a blink at that revelation. "You knew? When did you know?"

"I don't have all my powers, but I can still sense when there is an open EM signal near me," he said with no little scorn. "And none of the bullets were aimed at you."

He knew that? She'd thought he might be suspicious of her timely arrival to 'rescue' him, but to track the bullets' actual trajectories? That, in addition to being able to _sense_ when her phone was broadcasting and the strength he'd displayed shoving open the door... it all added up to more than human. And he'd let none of it show. She felt a stirring of admiration in the midst of her consternation. "You were playing me the whole time?"

He rolled his eyes. "You mortals, always so _sure_ you know everything. When you know _nothing_."

"Why did you go with me then?"

"I wanted to see what you would do. Plus, I had no money and you were willing to take me where I wanted to go. It was convenient."

 _Convenient_. She had been convenient. She shook her head with a rueful smile. "I warned them not to underestimate you."

"You are not with the Russians, though your accent is good. SHIELD, I assume."

It felt odd to be admitting this in the open, but her best play right now was honesty. "I'm with SHIELD," she confirmed. "The successor organization to the SSR. Which you should be familiar with. If you're actually..." she paused, unable to quite believe what she was saying, "Lukas Onsdag?"

He snorted. "If Randolph was not verification enough I have nothing better. Though I suppose you could look at that absurd statue in Arendelle market square; the likeness is surprisingly good."

She hadn't looked at the statue closely, since post-war bronze statues tended to be the same generic celebrations of victory or honoring the dead. More amusing, there were pictures all over SHIELD offices of the Howling Commandos, but apparently the system hadn't compared a single one of them. "Facial recognition didn't look at old enough files," she said.

"Since you didn't know who I am, what was your mission?"

"To observe and identify you. Keep civilians safe. You were a hostile unknown presence who assaulted our agents."

"Because SHIELD invaded Arendelle-" he interrupted, incensed.

"They were investigating a phenomenon that you brought." When he didn't deny that, she figured it was true.

It was all true. He was the Ice Demon. And Fury had suspected, obviously. Not enough to say it straight out, but he must have guessed who her target actually was. "Director Fury specifically wanted you investigated, not subdued. He suspected it was a misunderstanding. But no one was sure, so… that's why the play. They wanted to know your intentions and keep others safe. That's all." He seemed to accept her explanation, giving a nod of understanding. "So what _are_ your intentions, now that it's all in the open?"

Lukas held up the book. "To take this to a safe home in Arendelle. After that? Surely something will present itself."

"Something like SHIELD?" she asked.

But he frowned. "I am no more eager to involve myself in the military now than I was then."

That seemed odd, when what little she knew about him associated him with the military. "But weren't you with the SSR?"

He waved a hand dismissively. "My goals and the SSR's aligned briefly, but I never intended to stay with them." He looked at the book. "There was a time when Arendelle was home to me. I would like to see if it could be again. But with my identity already revealed, is it possible to remain Luke Rendell?"

Surprising herself, she felt some pity for him. "Just because SHIELD knows, or will, doesn't mean everyone has to."

He said dryly, "Yet I think they are more than enough."

"Probably true, I'm sorry to say. But Director Fury did say we weren't supposed to offend or anger the, uh, alien power, so I don't think he'll try to push you too hard." Which wasn't to say he wasn't going to try to push at all, because she suspected Fury had the Ice Demon in mind for the Avengers Initiative, and he was going to be very reluctant to hear a refusal. "Speaking of," she took out her phone, "I need to report this." She held up the phone ready to call, hesitating only to see if he would object or try to stop her. He hesitated as if he wanted to, but then gestured with his free hand to go ahead with a grimace of resignation. His secret was now out, and he had no way to keep her, or Randolph, from spilling it.

She called Maria directly. _"Agent Hill here. Go ahead, Agent Romanoff_."

Lukas was leafing through the precious book, pretending not to listen, as Natasha spoke. "I have confirmation and positive ID that Luke Rendell is an alias for Lukas Onsdag, the Ice Demon."

There was a moment of silence and then with admirable control, Maria asked, " _The same person who fought with Captain America and the Howling Commandos in World War II_?"

"The same."

" _Are you sure_?" Maria asked. But she answered her own question, apparently calling up photos to compare, because Natasha heard a quiet, " _Damn. It is him. Not a day older_."

Happy that Maria was expressing the amazement that Natasha didn't want to, she reported, "He knows I'm SHIELD. He pegged it as a setup from the start." Admitting that to Maria made Natasha want to cringe with embarrassment. It was not often that her targets made her first.

Luckily Maria had enough class and professionalism not to get on Natasha's case for it. At least not on an open line. " _Well, the director hoped he'd be an asset. Appears that might be true. What's the plan_?"

"Lukas found a book, a lost relic from Arendelle. He wants to return it."

" _A book_?" Maria chuckled. " _Does it get more innocuous? Tag along with him for now. I'll report to the Director and get back to you about transportation options. Good work. Hill out_."

Natasha ended the call and put her phone back in her pocket, turning to Lukas. "You heard? So while we wait, you want to walk around? I've never been to Seville."

"I was here," he answered. "Though in 1753 it was much more exciting." He was watching her with glimmering eyes and a mouth ready to grin with delight, waiting for the incredulity, so she didn't give it to him.

Instead she held out her hand and he reflexively offered his arm for her to take, very courtly Old World manners. She requested, "Show me?"

He smiled, but with less mischief and more genuine pleasure that she wasn't shocked or afraid, and that she wanted his knowledge. "If you like."

He pointed out the places ships had once docked and showed her the Moorish palace and then, because it was warm, they got ice cream and ambled through the narrow streets of the older city, while he told her what had once stood there.

"You remember it well, for something you saw so long ago. Do you have perfect recall?" she asked curiously.

"If I wish to," he answered. "Midgard is easier to remember. Time feels different here." He frowned, looking thoughtful. "And many structures endure."

In front of one of the university buildings and thinking that he had once stood in this place centuries ago when the building had been something else, she had to ask, "The Ice Demon. Are the stories true?"

He shrugged. "Not knowing the stories you refer to, I would guess probably not."

"You stood in this spot more than two hundred years ago and you're not from Earth. That part's true."

He didn't answer for a moment before admitting, "Yes. Though I am here to stay, at least for the near future."

"And you have more than human strength, tearing through the professor's door like that."

He gave a shrug. "Odin All-Father bound most of my powers before sending me here, so I am akin to mortal now. More so than during the war."

'Akin'. Not mortal, but like one. "You're immortal?"

"By strict definition, no. I age and eventually will die." He finished off his ice cream and flipped the stick into the bin without looking. "But my lifespan is measured in centuries and millennia, and with full powers, I am all but invulnerable. There is a reason your kind thought us gods."

At first she had nothing to say. An immortal being from another world was nothing she had ever planned for, or even imagined. She shook her head in wonder. "Your truth makes so much more sense than the elaborate story I kept trying to concoct to explain you."

His smile widened. "But I bet yours was more fun."

"Than an alien from another planet? No."

"Not an alien." He whipped out his red Arendelle passport to hold up in front of her face. "I am a _citizen_."

The combination of his proud announcement, his pose, and the ridiculous, surreal nature of the truth, was calculated to make her smile, so she did. She wondered what she was doing; spy training had never covered meeting myths come to life, or finding out her target was immortal.

But then again, he was just a man right now, and _that_ she knew how to handle.

* * *

Told their departure for Arendelle was scheduled for the morning, Natasha gave Lukas into his own room, deciding SHIELD could spring for separate accommodations for the Ice Demon, but instead of going to bed, she checked the time and decided to have a bit of fun.

" _Coulson. Romanoff, is it you_?"

"It's me. Did you hear the news? I thought you'd want to know."

" _No, what news_?"

She had to smile to herself, happy that Maria had left this to her. "Oh, nothing big. Just that... the Ice Demon's back."

She had never heard his voice climb into that register before. " _WHAT? Where_?"

Oh, this was even better than she'd hoped. "My target, Phil. He's the Ice Demon. Lukas Onsdag, in the flesh. Not a day older than he was in 1944."

" _No. Really? You're sure_?"

"One hundred percent. It's him."

" _He's alive. He's back. Natasha, do you realize what a... historic moment this is_?" he demanded of her, doubting she was properly impressed. " _One of the Howling Commandos, hero of Arendelle Resistance... is here. He was the last to see Captain America, Romanoff! You have to find out what really happened when that plane went down_." There was a moment's reverent silence.

She broke it, teasing, "Do you want me to get his autograph? Or can you wait until you see him in person?"

" _Is he leaving again soon?" Coulson asked. "Because if he's going away, then yes, of course, get his autograph_!"

"I think he's sticking around," she answered, snickering at his demand, but then turning more serious. "He played me, Phil. He's not as powerful as he was then, but still, not human. I think Fury's going to try to recruit him for the Initiative."

" _Oh_." That was all Coulson had to say for a moment. Possibly his mind had just short-circuited by the notion that not only could he meet the Ice Demon, he might be able to work with him, too.

"You okay there, Phil?"

He cleared his throat and returned to his professional, brisk tone. " _Yes, of course. Good work, Romanoff, and I expect a full report on everything_."

"What about you and Clint?" she asked.

" _We're observing. Not much to report. The hammer sits there. Most exciting thing so far is the local drunk who punched his way in to try to move it. We're trying to get some background on him, just in case, but I'd rather be there_."

"I'm sure." Amused, she ended the call and wondered if they sold replicas of the Ice Demon statue in Arendelle. Phil would love it.

* * *

... tbc...


	9. Revelations

NOTE: Because I have two gift fics due before Christmas, there'll be no post next week! SORRY (at least this one's long to make up for it!). It'll be back the week after. Hope your holiday season is a happy one! Thanks for reading, everyone.

* * *

 **CHAPTER NINE**

 **Revelations**

 **.**

The days passed with excruciating slowness to Thor. Jane and Erik attempted to recover some of their data, and Thor decided, lacking any other purpose, he would keep his promise to her. He tried to explain basic concepts to her, but his words for things were so different they might as well have been useless. She did press though, and he admired her determination to understand. She wanted to bring her people to the next level of understanding, and he wanted to help her.

Selvig could bridge them sometimes, since the word in Swedish for a few concepts were similar to those that Thor knew. But overall it was frustrating for everyone involved as the questions poured out of Jane and he didn't know how to answer her in words that would help her. Loki would be able to explain things better, he thought wistfully, and wished he'd paid more attention in his history of technology study.

None of them truly believed about Asgard; they heard his tales, but he saw their faces and knew they didn't believe it. They tried to diminish the Realm Eternal by calling it an alien world, and eventually he gave up and let them believe it. It was not as if he were in a position to teach them otherwise.

But despite those things, Thor felt companionship with them by the time the four returned to the diner for evening meal. Darcy complained that she wanted something not from a box, and when both Erik and Thor concurred, Jane heaved a sigh but went along with them. Thor observed that, similarly to Loki, she lacked care for herself while her head was involved in her work.

While Jane and Erik discussed the day's lack of progress, and Darcy chatted with the woman who served the tables, Thor wandered to the walls to examine the photographs to learn more about Midgardian culture. The still images in gray tones and dull color displayed what appeared to be historical places. He smiled to see a record of the village of Puente Antiguo in more lively days, with brighter lights and more people dressed in similar but not quite the same clothes and hairstyles as he saw on the street today, all smiling in the pictures. Other pictures were not of Puente Antiguo, but seemed to be of the same sort of historical images.

One image arrested his attention and he stared: there was a man in a uniform carrying a round shield with a star in the center. Thor had seen that shield before, because a miniature version of it sat on Loki's shelf beside the snowflake Elsa had made for him, in what was Loki's shrine to his valued dead. "Who is this?" he demanded.

Jane looked over and joined him. She gave a little laugh. "That's Captain America, even I know that."

"And who is Captain America?" he insisted.

Her brown eyes turned quizzical. "You've never heard of Captain America? Well, um, his name was Steve Rogers, he was a war hero, fighting Nazis during World War II. There was a TV show when I was a teenager… didn't you see that? Oh, I guess you wouldn't have, coming from..." she lowered her voice and added, "somewhere else, right. Of course." She trailed off, looking at the other photos, landing on another one, a group picture, pointing to it. "Here, this is the rest of his team. The Howling Commandos. I bet Erik knows more since they were in Europe during…"

Thor stopped listening to her, because in that photo, behind and to the left of Steve Rogers in his star-and-stripe uniform, stood Loki. He wore undecorated human military clothing, and his hair was tied back from his face in a tail. But it was clearly Loki.

He seized the picture off the wall. The cook saw and tried to object, "Hey! What are you-"

"I need this," Thor said. "I will give it back." He took it to the table where Erik was sitting. "Tell me about them," he requested of Selvig as he set down the picture. "These Howling Commandos."

Selvig gaped at him and at the picture, before figuring out Thor was serious. "Yes, Jane's right, of course. They fought Nazis, especially a brutal faction called Hydra, led by a man named Schmidt, known as Red Skull," Selvig said. "He was crazy and evil. Hydra built advanced weapons from something they called the Cosmic Cube. Which seems a ridiculous name, to me, and who knows if it was real. But Schmidt was certainly a real person."

 _The tesseract_ , Thor knew with a sinking heart. The "Cosmic Cube" was the tesseract. Loki had thought he could use it to force the invaders out of Arendelle, but it had been usurped. This was why Loki had stayed; to retrieve the tesseract when the evil man had stolen it, and it had ended up on the sea floor. But that didn't explain why Loki would refuse to talk about any of it or communicate with Frigga.

"And this man?" Thor pointed to Loki. "Who is he?"

Erik's eyes lit up. "Ah, the Commando we like to claim our own in the northlands. He was from Arendelle. His name was Lukas Onsdag, but we call him-"

"The Ice Demon," Thor said, at the same time as Erik, who looked surprised he knew.

"Yes, him. You know of the Ice Demon?"

"A little. So what did he do with these Howling Commandos?" Thor asked.

"There are entire books about it," Erik said. "Some rumor, some truth, I don't know. But he was a hero."

"A hero?" Thor repeated. He was amazed that Selvig knew of Loki at all, but then to find out Loki was so lauded sounded like some sort of jest at his expense. At home, Loki was known as a prince of Asgard, of course, but no one spoke of him as a _hero_.

Selvig stiffened and his tone was defensive as he said, "It's old fashioned to you young people, perhaps, but yes, I believe he was. He helped Queen Birgitte of Arendelle flee to exile and was taken prisoner by Hydra-"

"Prisoner?" Thor interrupted, looking down at the photograph and feeling a sudden chill as if a door to Jotunheim had opened behind him.

"For a long time," Selvig answered.

Jane added, "Worse than that, though, wasn't it, Erik? At least in the movie, he was a supersoldier, too, like Captain America, and Hydra experimented on him."

Selvig nodded. "Yes, the pair of them were something more than human, though I don't know how much to credit of that. It has always seemed too much a comic book to me."

Thor heard but remembered what Loki had said when he'd first come home: ' _a year in the darkness_ ' and ' _no one helped_ ' Words which Thor had known meant ill, yet he had not sussed out the true meaning of captivity.

Loki had never talked about it again. Thor had asked him, knowing there was _something_ going unsaid, but Loki had always brushed off his time on Midgard as a boring interlude, interesting only at the end when he'd fought over the tesseract and lost it.

"And then?" Thor asked, curious about what else his brother had failed to tell him.

Selvig's eyebrows went up as if surprised Thor had never heard the story. "Captain America rescued him, and they fought together with the rest of the commandos. They sacrificed themselves to stop Schmidt who was going to launch terrible bombs."

"They died?"

"The plane crashed into the Arctic and none were seen again."

 _Not true. One was seen on Asgard when Loki returned and put a statue of a round shield next to the snowflake. Oh, Loki, why did you never tell me or Mother any of this? Instead you held it all so tight, illusion after illusion that all was well, when nothing was well._

Selvig looked at him then and asked the obvious question, "Why?"

Thor wondered what to say. He'd tried the truth before and they hadn't believed him, so this time he answered, "It sounds interesting."

"There's a movie," Jane offered. " _The Winter Angel_ , from a few years back."

Thor frowned and repeated with skepticism, "The Winter Angel?"

Jane shrugged and smiled. "I guess they thought 'demon' wasn't a nice thing to call a hero."

Selvig added, "There was protest in Arendelle and the other countries where the Ice Demon is honored, but Hollywood does what they want, right? So they renamed him. I have it on disk if you want to watch."

Thor didn't understand most of what they were saying, except he gathered there was an entertainment about Loki's exploits in the war, which yes, he would like to see. He nodded. "Yes, I would."

That night they gathered in the small building that served as Jane's laboratory, Darcy made popcorn and they watched the movie.

It was very primitive, like watching a painting, and Thor had a hard time getting past that at first. The human pretending to be Loki was not similar in any respect except his dark hair, which was also distracting. But nevertheless, within a little while, Thor found himself absorbed, particularly once the queen had escaped and "Lukas" was captured. The Nazis shut him into a tube and chained it shut. The next scene was worse: he was bare-chested with his arms restrained over his head, and a small rat-faced Nazi scientist laid out an array of knives and needles and other instruments and started using them one by one. What happened was mostly implied, but Thor could fill in the blanks well enough.

"This-" Thor said, voice turning hoarse. "This surely is exaggerated."

"This?" Darcy said, pausing the video where the doctor was sticking a long needle into his victim. "Nah. This is mild; they wanted to keep the rating down. I read Bucky Barnes' memoir. He said Onsdag was - get this - pinned to a table by metal bolts through his wrists."

… _bolts through his wrists_ …

The popcorn went flying as Thor tried uselessly to push that knowledge away with a gesture of his hands. All he could think about was Loki's habit of rubbing his wrist with his thumb. The source of that habit now explained, and much worse than he had expected. "Oh, ancestors, no," he breathed.

"I know, Nazis suck, right?" Darcy said, oblivious to his distress. "They could do whatever they wanted and he, like, wouldn't die. Cuz he healed right up." She shuddered. "Can you imagine?"

Jane's eyes were on Thor as she said softly, "It must have been hell."

"It was darkness," he whispered. He drew breath and tried to get himself under control again. "I apologize. Continue, Darcy. If you would."

She resumed the movie and soon Captain America rescued him. Later on, there was… kissing between Captain America and the Ice Demon which made Thor raise his eyebrows in surprise. Loki had been so determined not to make connections after Elsa and Anna had died, he was surprised Loki would do this. Though perhaps it would explain Loki's upset…

The movie ended with both heroes fighting Red Skull and sending the plane into the water, holding hands.

"That, by the way, is bullshit," Darcy declared as she shut it off in the middle of the listing of names. "Captain America had a girlfriend. If anyone, Lukas was getting it on with Barnes, because there's a whole lot of time when they were alone together behind enemy lines that he skips over in the book. I bet they were banging."

Thor did not know what to believe; if the movie misrepresented the relationship between Loki and Rogers, and yet Thor knew that Rogers was the one Loki mourned most given the memento he had kept, how likely was it that Loki would have given into carnal desires for a mortal?

"Darcy!" Jane threw a small pillow at her, laughing. "No gossip about national heroes, please!"

"I'm just saying, if you're gonna add a romance it should've been one that at least might have happened."

Thor wanted to hit something, that they were treating this as a mere tale, not a revelation of truth that cut Thor inside. Decades of lies now were shown to be the thin curtains they were, and he saw beyond to the darker truths of blood and pain.

How many times had Loki turned Thor's concern back on itself with a laugh and a jest, until Thor had believed there was nothing wrong? Loki's denials had outlasted what Thor had _known_ to be true: that it could not have been so easy or so dull. He blamed Loki's stubbornness for hiding the truth, but he knew the greater blame was himself for not pushing harder, and his parents for letting Loki get away with avoidance and misdirection. He had led them all on a merry dance until they'd forgotten where it had started.

Thor went up to the roof for the fresh air and view of the stars. Jane followed a little while later.

"You know him," she declared softly. "Don't you? It's all true."

Thor turned his head, surprised that Jane had decided his story was true after all. "He's my brother. He went to Arendelle to try to protect them from the invasion and disappeared. When he returned he refused to speak of it." His gaze sought the stars again, imagining the brightness of Asgard and how shadowed it must have seemed for Loki, haunted at every step by memories he kept so tightly to himself. "I knew something had happened, something terrible, but not… that." His right hand gestured in vague direction to the film and the tales he had heard. "Strange that I should have to come here to hear the truth, and never from his own lips."

"Obviously he survived the crash."

"He did. Though I think his heart did not. He seemed suddenly to abhor stillness, coaxing me into reckless adventure. I needed little persuasion," he admitted, "but where I once had needed to cajole him from his books, he was eager to seek out danger." His jaw tightened on the new knowledge. "He named me reckless, yet he was the one who most taunted death."

"Avoidance," she said, then added thoughtfully, "I've heard some trauma victims here fall into addictions to help themselves feel better; maybe danger was his."

"Perhaps," Thor agreed with a sigh. "It is a troubling thing to know how much worse his experience was than I imagined." He sighed. "I should have come back to Midgard. A simple inquiry in Arendelle would have revealed all this years ago."

"So there was no doctor to help him?" Jane asked. Thor's face must have held his incomprehension, as she explained haltingly, "A mind healer, of some sort?"

He frowned. "We have few healers, of any sort. We need none as a rule. If it does not kill us outright, our wounds heal rapidly. Or would, at my full strength."

"Oh." She picked up the corollary to that, "So there was no one to help him deal with being tortured." She sounded disappointed, as if she expected more from Asgard.

"We deal with such things with time," Thor offered. "We live long, compared to your people, and the past eases its grip."

She nodded her understanding, but remained sad. "Sixty years is still a long time to live with suffering when there might have been help."

He couldn't argue with that, wishing things were different. If he had known, or if their mother had known, perhaps Loki would not have closed himself off, behind a veil of illusion.

"Sorry," Jane said, touching his arm, "I didn't mean to beat up on you about it. At least you know now."

He nodded his agreement. "At least I know." He also knew when next he met his brother, he would not accept Loki's distractions and lies about what happened.

Best of all, he knew Loki hadn't joined him in exile and was still safely at home.

* * *

Natasha drove the small rental car to the military base on the other side of the airport, where the quinjet was parked.

Lukas had his precious book on his lap, one large hand spread across it.

At the gate she lowered the window and smiled at the guard, handing him her Romanoff passport. "Agent Romanoff for the SHIELD plane."

The guards consulted a list and then gave her passport back, had her sign something, and they were through.

Lukas watched the small airplane taking off on the runway that paralleled the road. "Propellers. Still. I am not flying in one of those again. Now that you know who I am, I will make you a flying machine that is not an aeroplane," he grumbled.

"Poor thing," she cooed in false sympathy and he glowered at her.

The quinjet was parked in one of the hangars that had its doors open, and at the sight, Lukas sat up straighter in his chair. "Ah. Now that is a more interesting craft."

"See? You'll be fine."

He hummed, sounding doubtful. "And in return for all this benevolence, what am I expected to do, Natalya?" he asked.

She parked at the corner of the building, and answered, "Be benevolent toward us. I'm sure Director Fury will want to talk to you." She was sure it would be about the Avengers Initiative. If Fury had been considering Stark for it, he was certainly considering the Ice Demon. But it wasn't her place to say.

Lukas frowned. "I want to go to Arendelle."

"We are," she reminded him and then smiled. "I know you're excited to belong there, but you'll be bored in two days."

"It's home," he protested, but his lips flattened in a grimace like he was acknowledging her point within, even if he wouldn't admit it outloud.

She didn't bother to argue, as she opened the car door. Entering the hangar, she saw Sitwell was waiting in front of the quinjet. "There's Agent Sitwell."

"I saw him in Arendelle, and the airport when we arrived," Lukas said dismissively, far more interested in the jet.

She snorted to herself. So much for Sitwell's claim that Lukas had never seen him in Arendelle. She wished it was Coulson there, and chuckled at the thought. She glanced at Lukas and explained, "My usual lead, Agent Phil Coulson, loves everything to do with Captain America. He has a collection of trading cards. Dolls. Probably bedsheets. He wants your autograph, by the way."

The perplexed look on Lukas's face, as if he understood what she was saying but thought he had to be mistaken, was even better than Coulson's disappointment that he wasn't meeting one of the Howling Commandos.

She tested lightly, "Coulson's in Puente Antiguo. New Mexico."

But Lukas had no reaction. And though she knew how well he could control himself, he didn't twitch at the news, saying only, "I am glad he's not here then. I have no interest in that sort of mockery."

So he knew nothing about the location. She was about to mention the hammer, but the sound of heavy footsteps at the hangar entrance behind her, from the opposite side where she'd parked, made her turn to see Ward and Rumlow coming in behind them, as she escorted Lukas towards Sitwell. "Agent Romanoff," Sitwell greeted her with a little nod, but turned his eyes toward Lukas and had to swallow hard, intimidated now that he knew who Lukas really was.

"Lukas, this is Agent Jasper Sitwell of SHIELD. And Ward and Rumlow," she introduced and frowned at Rumlow. He hadn't been in Arendelle, and she didn't know why he was there. Sitwell was in a suit, but Rumlow was in his tac gear, as if he were prepped for an op.

Lukas flashed a smile at Ward. "Mister Ward and I are acquainted already."

Ward didn't smile back, and held himself stiffly as if he wanted to punch Lukas in the face.

Even Sitwell seemed nervous, though it soon became clear why as he cleared his throat. "We got new orders," he declared. "STRIKE is to take custody of Mister Rendell."

"Custody?" Lukas repeated, and the glance he gave her was betrayed.

"No!" she objected, both to the idea of these new orders and to deny Lukas's assumption. "When was this? I didn't get those orders," she challenged. "Hill approved us to take the quinjet to Arendelle."

"Orders change." Rumlow gave a half-shrug and an arrogant smirk. "Sorry, Romanoff. Your pet project is terminated. Ice Demon goes to the Fridge for eval, like all the dangerous O84s."

Maybe Fury had changed his mind, once he'd learned Lukas's identity. Or perhaps he'd been overruled. "It'll be fine," she reassured Lukas, extending her hand to keep him calm. "I'll get this straightened out."

Lukas took a step back from the quinjet, eyes flicking from one to another, and clutched the book to his chest with one hand. "I am going to Arendelle."

"No, you're going with us," Rumlow declared. "I have orders."

"I don't care about your orders." Somehow Lukas held the dagger he'd stolen from Randolph in his hand and leveled it at the SHIELD agents, his expression darkening with threat.

Rumlow pulled his sidearm. "You're not immune to bullets. Drop the knife."

She was incredulous that he would draw on Lukas. "Rumlow, this is exactly what Fury didn't want! I want to hear from him or Hill first."

Rumlow glanced at her, and his smile was tight and shark-ish. "Fury knew you were too attached." Rumlow gestured with the gun toward Lukas. "C'mon, Ice Demon, let's go. Into the jet. This doesn't need to get messy." He looked behind her and gave a little nod. There was a sharp hiss of a discharge. Starting to turn to evade it, a sharp prong smacked her in the back. It sunk into her flesh.

Tranq dart.

She grabbed at it, pulling it out, but her fingers were already numb as she dropped it to the floor. In her peripheral vision, she saw Rollins smugly lowering the dart gun. Shit, the rest of STRIKE was here, too. This was all wrong.

Lukas turned to her, alarmed. "Natalya!"

She kicked at Rumlow's gun hand, sending the gun spinning to the floor but having to finish the move on one knee as it folded beneath her. "Run," she tried to shout at Lukas, but too late.

Sitwell shot him in the back with his taser. Lukas's eyes flared and his body went stiff and then shook violently with the voltage. The dagger dropped from his hand, and she saw sudden terror in his eyes, as he collapsed. His book tumbled in slow motion from his other hand and smacked into the concrete.

 _Sitwell, too? Why are they doing this? Do they really have orders? No, Fury would never order them to tranq me. Would he? Doesn't matter. Get up, help him, I need to help him_...

Yet despite her harsh words to herself, all she could do was watch as Ward sauntered up to Lukas and kicked him in the ribs as hard as he could. "Son of a bitch, get acquainted with _this_. I hope they take you apart." He kicked Lukas again, but Sitwell grabbed his arm and pulled him off.

"Enough."

They were distracted for a moment, not considering her a threat anymore, this was her chance. She pushed herself up to her feet. She was light-headed, and her muscles only obeyed out of habit, but she had a lifetime of habit to draw on. She could take them all. She forced her fingers around Ward's wrist before they knew she was there, used that as leverage to pull herself up and round, slamming a foot in Rollins' stomach to get him away from Lukas.

But Rumlow was fast, elbow coming around to slam her in the side of the head. She couldn't evade, keeping Ward in a choke-hold, and took the blow. Pain shot through her head, and her grip loosened enough Ward broke free. She fell, legs rubbery and weak from the tranq, head feeling on fire. "Stay down, Romanoff," Rumlow ordered.

"Don't shoot her!" Sitwell ordered, and distantly, she was appalled that it even appeared that Rumlow might shoot her. Would he do it? Why? What the hell was going on?

Darkness closed in.

* * *

... tbc...


	10. Again

The blows against his abdomen and ribs hurt, but he couldn't move to stop them from striking him. He heard Natalya moan as she fell and hoped they hadn't killed her, but he couldn't help her either.

His ribs ached as someone's boot flipped him onto his front. He tried to struggle, but his muscles twitched uselessly. Cuffs snapped around his wrists at his back, and his ankles were wrapped with some kind of thin rope multiple times and that looped around his throat, too, snugly.

As they trussed him up, his insides seemed to freeze so he could barely draw breath. "No, let me go, let me go," his voice sounded strange, all breathy and weak.

Ward said, "He needs to shut up."

"Got it," Rumlow answered. Loki felt a fist in his hair and his head was pulled back, and though Loki tried to stop him, Rumlow was able to shove the appliance into his mouth. It pressed down on his tongue and between his teeth, and had a stretchy band that went around his head tightly, pulling his hair. "There." His eyes met Loki's and he smirked disdainfully. "For a god, you're pretty pathetic."

Loki didn't bother to try to speak aloud. He knew how impotent it would sound, so he let his eyes do his speaking for him, letting his enemy know that Loki would pull out this mortal's heart at the end of this game.

Rumlow blinked, took a step back, releasing Loki's hair so his head fell forward.

"Let's go," Sitwell said.

"Sitwell, no offense," Rumlow said, "but you're not in charge anymore. STRIKE, get our passenger loaded. Sitwell, prep the jet, we need to go."

Two men lifted Loki up, and he kicked out, like a sea creature with his feet bound together, and managed to hit one in the face. But it was a short-lived victory, as they tasered him again. It was worse this time, the electricity shooting through already damaged nerves and his whole body seized with blinding pain.

 _Not again, not again_.

But it was happening again. A prisoner, again, subdued again.

And finally, like before, there was relief in letting go into the dark, even with the knowledge that he would not like waking.

* * *

"Senorita? Senorita?"

Natasha stirred, at the urgent stranger's voice. Her head hurt, and moving anything ached tremendously, and it took a moment for all the memories to come back.

Sitwell. STRIKE. What the hell?

She opened her eyes and forced herself to sit up. The quinjet was gone, and Lukas was nowhere to be seen. They'd taken him.

The young guard in his trim olive drab uniform was not prepared for her urgent hand grabbing his collar. "When did they go?"

"Treinta- thirty minutes. More," he answered in English. "Are you okay? You need the police?"

Half an hour. She shut her eyes, forcing a calm, and let go of the guard. This was nothing to do with him. "No, no police."

He shook his head, frowning and seemed upset by that choice. "But the men attacked you! You need the police."

It had felt like an attack. Like a betrayal. Her operation had been changed out from under her with no warning. She tried to tell herself it was SHIELD and her superiors had the right to do that, it still stung bitterly. "No," Natasha said and got to her feet. Her head hurt, and her extremities were numb, but anger was an anti-toxin in her veins. "I'm all right." She smiled at him, and he shuffled his feet, embarrassed by the attention. "Thank you very much for your help."

They'd taken Lukas's book and the dagger. There was only one loose page fluttering against the edge of the hangar door, and she retrieved it, smoothing it against her shirt carefully.

As she walked back to the pocket-sized car, she pulled out her phone to call Maria.

" _This is Hill_."

"What the hell?" Natasha demanded. "The plan was to go to Arendelle, and you pull it out from under me?"

There was a pause, and Maria asked, lowering her voice more private, " _Natasha, what's going on_?"

"What do you think? Sitwell just activated the new orders, Rollins tranq'd me and they left me unconscious-"

Maria interrupted, " _They did what? What are you talking about? What new orders_?"

In an instant, her anger went cold. Maria didn't know. Natasha bit out in a very level voice, "To take Lukas to the Fridge."

" _To the Fridge? No, there's been no such order. Who told you that_?"

"Sitwell. And Rumlow backed him up. Said the new orders were for STRIKE to take Lukas to the Fridge. I protested, and Rollins shot me with a tranq dart. They took Lukas."

" _That's… not right_ ," Maria said slowly. " _There's been no such order that I know of. I certainly didn't reassign Rumlow's team, and as far as I know, not from the director either, and I don't see why he would go behind us both if it came from him. Let me talk to him, I'll get back to you_."

She hung up and that left Natasha with an unsettled feeling that this was worse than she'd thought. If this wasn't from Fury or Hill, who had changed the operation? There were few people who would have the authority, and none without Fury's permission when her op was director-sanctioned…

Which really left only one option – that Sitwell, Ward, and STRIKE had done this on their own. Gone rogue. To capture Lukas.

She dialed a different number from memory.

" _Barton_."

"Hey. How's everything?" she asked Clint.

His pause as he realized she was using their code for undercover status was infinitesimal, but she knew he heard. He answered with the same ease, " _Oh it's hunky-dory_ ," he gave her back the green code and then asked with more concerned voice. " _And you_?"

"Not good," she answered honestly. "Sitwell snatched my target without Hill's knowledge."

" _Sitwell_?" Clint asked with a short laugh. " _When's he done anything without orders_?"

"Exactly. Ward and Rumlow backed him up."

Barton took a second and figured it out, too. " _They went rogue_?" he demanded.

"Unless Fury changed his mind and didn't tell me or Maria. I don't know what's happening, but I don't like it."

His voice settled to calm. " _I'll take your bad feeling over a thousand pages of proof_."

Feeling a bit relieved that he believed her, she said, "Just.. watch yourself. Tell Phil. If there's a…" it was hard to even speak the words, but she had to force them out, "rogue faction, they might move on your target, too."

" _I hear you. Keep in touch_."

Feeling better that at least Strike Team Delta was on the same page, even if they weren't on the same continent, she put her phone away.

She hurried after the security guard. "I don't need the police, but I do need to talk to air traffic control. I need to know where the plane went."

He smiled at her, happy to take her there.

* * *

Thor sat on the roof of Jane's building, gnawing his way through a paper bucket of fried chicken, and looked out at the quiet village. He missed his family, his other friends, and his home. It was somehow worse to know Mjolnir was almost within sight, and yet out of reach.

About ten minutes of feeling sorry for himself passed, before it occurred to him that Loki had been alone on Midgard twice before, both times in far more unpleasant situations.

He lifted his head, reminding himself that if Loki could wander Midgard for a century in self-exile, Thor could do the same.

A large black vehicle pulled into the parking lot below, and he looked down to watch Jane stomp out of the building, to confront the men alighting from the car. One was the man who had tried to interrogate Thor at the hammer facility, and he wore a black suit, and had little hair. Agent Coulson was his name. Another man with the compact muscular form of a fighter followed him, and he was wearing a more obvious combat uniform including a pistol in his thigh holster.

"You have a lot of nerve coming back here!" she spat at them, hands on her hips. "I have nothing left for you to steal, unless you're after my DVD player this time!"

"I'm not here for you, Doctor Foster." The man removed his sunglasses and tipped his head back to look at Thor. "We're here to speak to... Doctor Blake."

"Well, we can't always get what we want," Jane retorted.

"Doctor Foster, it's important."

"Oh, let me guess, 'national security.' Well, your 'national security' is crap!" she raged at him. "And I want no part of it, and Thor doesn't either!"

Coulson and the other man exchanged a look that settled oddly on Thor's heart. Something was wrong. He stepped off the roof and jumped to the ground. "You want me, Son of Coul? Speak."

It was only after he noticed their reactions that Thor thought anything of the drop. Such a little fall, too.

"You seem in a better mood," Coulson observed, but that was an obvious conversational gambit and Thor ignored it, so Coulson would get to the point. "This is Agent Barton," he introduced his companion briefly. "And since Doctor Foster just called you a name that confirms Doctor Barnes' suspicion of your connection to the hammer, I'll tell you what's happened. We believe there's a connection between that hammer and the burned circle that formed the same day in Arendelle."

"Arendelle?" he asked, excitement tightening his breath. Another circle meant the Bifrost, and surely the same day meant Loki. "Is Loki there?"

Coulson raised his brows and then frowned, "Loki?"

"My brother. You know him better as Lukas Onsdag."

"Your brother?" That got another reaction. Clearly Coulson didn't know everything he thought he knew. "The Ice Demon of the Howling Commandos is your _brother_?"

"Of course," Thor answered.

"Oh." Coulson took a moment to process that. "Doctor Barnes didn't mention that. Well, we've been observing him, too. He's why we're here."

"He is in Arendelle, that is good then. It is a second home to him," Thor said, then was unnerved when Coulson and the other exchanged another glance. "It is not good?"

"There was… some difficulty when he arrived," Coulson said. "He took exception to SHIELD being in town. Apparently he felt we were an invasive force and tried to fight us."

"Fight? What did you do?" Thor stepped toward him, and Coulson took a step back, looking up, and for the first time showed alarm. Barton moved like a bodyguard, closing the gap to Coulson's side, ready to throw himself in between.

Coulson explained hurriedly, "If he'd just said he was Onsdag, SHIELD knows about him and we would've stopped, but he used a different alias: Luke Rendell. And when we knew who-"

"Coulson," Barton interrupted, "That's why. His cover was blown. That's why they moved on him."

Thor didn't like the sound of that. "Who? What happened?"

Coulson grimaced. "We had Agent Romanoff, one of our best agents with him, to keep him under observation. But about twelve hours ago, other agents lied to Agent Romanoff that they had new orders, attacked her, and abducted Onsdag."

Thor felt as if he couldn't quite understand that. "Someone abducted my brother? For what reason?"

"Well, I don't know why yet. But it seems apparent a small group within SHIELD has gone rogue to take him."

Thor's heart seemed to beat too strongly and his breath a little short. Prisoner. After all that he had learned of Loki's previous captivity, for some human to take him again was difficult to hear. He spit out the word in disgust, "Hydra."

Coulson straightened and shook his head. "Well, not them, they're long gone. SHIELD took out their remaining cells after the war. But perhaps someone with a similar desire to-" his words stopped, realizing what he was about to say and who he was about to say it to.

Thor finished for him, "Hold him prisoner and experiment. As was done before."

"Yes," Coulson agreed. "Unfortunately that does seem likely. With a new twist. Records on Onsdag and in James Barnes' book suggest he was invulnerable to bullets in WWII. If he was then, he's not now. He wasn't hurt badly, but a bullet hit him in the arm." He gestured to indicate the spot over his black jacket. "Agent Romanoff tended him, and she reported he was definitely hurt."

Which meant Loki was mortal as well, right now. Hydra had needed to go through some effort to restrain him before, but his assailants would need less now. Thor held out his hands to look at them, thinking about this mortal skin they were both in. They were not as fragile as these humans, but they both lacked their full strength. "We were sent here by our father and our usual power is stripped from us until we prove our worthiness." He thought of Mjolnir, not far away, and Loki back in the hands of madmen trying to steal the Ice Demon's powers again.

Barton said in dry incredulity, "Your dad sent you to Earth to punish you?"

Thor would have argued the wording but had to admit, "Yes. We were reckless and he was wrathful with us. But that matters not when Loki is threatened. I must rescue my brother, Son of Coul."

"I don't-"

Thor was not going to accept any denials or delays. "For these few years since your war, Loki has done this." He lifted his hands to rub his thumb against his opposite wrist. "It is a gesture he never made before coming to this world. But since, whenever dark memories surface in him, he rubs at invisible scars, from when those evil men put metal spikes through his wrists while they performed their torture. I will not let them try to destroy him again."

Coulson held up a hand. "I have every intention of rescuing him, I promise you that. I mean, I would anyway, but he's a Howling Commando. He fought with Captain America to destroy Hydra. He deserves every effort to get him out. But we need to find him. They claimed they were going to our facility called the Fridge, but they never arrived. They could be anywhere by now."

"They would need a place," Thor said. He thought of the movie and what Schmidt had done to Loki in the past, and felt sick at the thought of what these new people might do, believing Loki was full powered. "They would not attempt to hold him unprepared."

"I agree. So I came to tell you that Agent Barton and I are leaving to join Agent Romanoff in searching for him."

"Then I will go with you."

"I don't think that's a good idea. We don't know how deep this betrayal goes, and these people might want to get their hands on you, also."

"I care not," Thor said. "Let them try and they will learn the folly of trying to hold the sons of Odin."

"All right." Coulson gave a grim little smile. "Since I can't be sure who else to trust, we could use your help, when we find him."

"No!" Jane objected. "Thor, no, you can't trust these people. After what they've done!"

Coulson looked at her with an apologetic grimace. "I realize we didn't start off on the right foot, Doctor Foster, but unfortunately everything I've said here is true."

Barton nodded. "Romanoff called me herself, right after they took him."

She glowered at them, unwilling to allow the least softening, and Thor wanted to smile. She was so loyal and fierce for such a tiny person. "I believe them, Jane. I must help him."

Bending, she nodded, "Of course. And I suppose two astrophysicists and an intern aren't going to be much help. But if there's anything we can do, you'll tell me, right? And be careful."

"I will be. And return when I am able," he promised and lifted her hand to his lips, delighting in her astonished and flustered expression after.

Thor said his farewells to Erik and Darcy as well, and took the front passenger seat of the large car for the drive out to the desert.

The place looked different in daylight and without the rain, but still seemed made out of paper. Thor kept that observation to himself as the car pulled inside the fence. "I want to see the hammer again, before we go."

Coulson frowned at him. "You think you'll get a different result?"

His jaw tightened. "I have more need now. And surely, wishing to rescue someone from terrible harm is a worthy endeavor."

"I would think so." Coulson ordered, "Barton, escort him. This time, less punching, please. Wheels up in fifteen."

Mjolnir was still stuck in the mud and Thor wrapped a hand around it, thinking of going to rescue to Loki, hoping that would be enough.

Mjolnir didn't budge. He pulled harder, gritting his teeth, for naught.

"FATHER!" he bellowed. "I need it. Loki is in trouble, he needs me! PLEASE!"

There was no answer. Mjolnir remained stubbornly affixed to the ground, as if Thor had no more right to her than any random mortal on this world.

"What do you want?" Thor whispered, more to the hammer than Odin. "Must I go after him empty-handed? What if I am too mortal to save him? What if he is too mortal to live? When does it stop, Father? Would you punish us so much for so little?" He tugged again at Mjolnir's handle, still in futile effort and cast his eyes upward. "I swear," he promised in a low voice, "if he dies, I will never forgive you. Not ever."

But Mjolnir remained fixed to the dirt. So Thor clenched his empty fists, stood up, and walked away. He would rescue his brother, with or without his Aesir invulnerability, and with or without Mjolnir.

Let no mortal step in his way.

* * *

... tbc...


	11. Stuck

NOTE: oh, phew, they fixed the review problem! And as a warning, Loki's captivity contains some disturbing scenes in his POV sections, not skipped over mostly as they were in Hydra.

* * *

 **Chapter Eleven**

 **Stuck**

.

Before his eyes opened, Loki remembered he'd been taken and he thrust out a hand to crush the head of his assailant, rage like molten iron in his body.

Nothing moved. His hand barely shifted inside its manacle. He opened his eyes and then had to shut them again, as the lights were too bright. But he was awake enough to evaluate his position.

He was lying on a metal table, arms at his sides. His wrists and ankles were shackled, and there was a tight collar around his neck as well, holding his head down. The green shirt was gone and he was bare chested and barefoot, though he was still wearing the trousers.

His ribs twinged from the blows, and his whole body ached from the applications of the electricity, but other than that he seemed untouched. So far.

A German accented voice spoke in English, "Oh, yes, the light. Here, so you can see me."

The bright light moved away, so Loki could blink upward and see his new captor.

He was ordinary looking, with only a shaved head and monocle making him unusual, since even Loki knew monocles were hopelessly out of fashion. He stood at attention, with his hands behind his back, and when he saw he had Loki's attention, he introduced himself, "I am Baron Wolfgang von Strucker."

Loki was not familiar with the name, but the title and the German name was a hint. "Oh, let me guess," Loki said dryly, "you lead whatever pathetic remnant of Hydra that still exists. I had hoped killing Schmidt and Zola would end that, but I underestimated mortal stupidity."

Strucker's face tightened, not as untouched by Loki's scorn as he wanted to be, and he laughed. "You know nothing of the new Hydra, Ice Demon."

"No? Do tell," Loki invited. "Because I know you are a sad relic of days past, clinging desperately to the memory of Johann Schmidt, who was a moron and a fool, and so were the men who followed him."

"He was smart enough to capture you," Strucker retorted.

Loki scoffed, "How petty and childish you are. Your entire lifetime is but a flicker to me, here and gone, and soon forgotten."

Strucker's jaw clenched. "So arrogant," he sneered.

"Well, I am over a thousand years old. What's your excuse?" He smirked at Strucker, hoping he was making it quite clear how little this Hydra late-comer was impressing him.

But Strucker seemed to like the reference, smiling. "A _thousand_ years old?" His hand laid on Loki's shoulder and smoothed down the skin of his arm, fingers locating where the gunshot wound had been. "You were shot, and it healed. But you are not invulnerable. And not immune to pain, they tell me." He grabbed Loki's hand in both of his and in a quick motion, seized Loki's thumb and jerked it hard.

Loki had enough time to clench his teeth and hold back the cry as his thumb was yanked from its socket. But he couldn't help the flinch or the jerk of his head against the collar around his neck.

Strucker let go, and Loki's thumb throbbed as he lay there. Strucker's smile changed to one of pleased satisfaction. "No, definitely not immune to pain." He leaned close over Loki's face, promising in what he probably believed was a very threatening tone, "I will strip that arrogance from you. I will peel it from your skin and pull it from your blood, and I will learn exactly what makes you live so long."

"You will die before new year," Loki hissed between his teeth.

In answer, Strucker grabbed another finger and snapped the bone. Unprepared, Loki cried out and Strucker ground the ends together. "I will do it again and again, until pain is all you know. I will learn how you work and I will take it from you. You are weak and helpless, and there is no Captain America to rescue you this time, Ice Demon. In the end, all will serve Hydra, in life or death. Even you."

Loki clenched his jaw and his heart pounded, as he remembered Schmidt and Zola and their experiments. He could not, could not do that again. Could not endure that again.

He opened his mouth to call Golden-Eyes' attention. "Heim-"

A white-coated laboratory scientist shoved the gag back into Loki's mouth, mangling his plea, and he choked.

The light returned, bright even behind his eyelids, and faintly through the pain of his injured hand, he felt the needle inserted in his inner elbow to take blood. Then they started to cut off the rest of his clothes.

 _No, no, not again, not again. Mother, please, hear me. All-Father, please, return my powers, help me. Help me fight them. Make this stop. I need this to stop, I can't do this again, please, help me_...

But without his magic, without seidr to touch, his pleas were words locked in his head and went nowhere. Would anyone bother to look this time? He was banished, unimportant, why would they look? If they looked, would they care? Was this part of his punishment? Was this intended? Did Odin know this would happen, that he would end up here again as if no time had passed at all?

Once again, he was abandoned.

* * *

"Can this craft go no faster?" Thor demanded impatiently of Coulson in the back of the flying vehicle he had called a quinjet.

Coulson didn't answer, but said, "We're almost there."

Thor folded his arms. "This had best be the truth, son of Coul." He would not allow them to keep placating him like a child, when his brother was in the hands of enemies.

"Ten minutes!" Barton called from the front where he was piloting. "You can come watch if you like. The Helicarrier's pretty impressive."

More to move than to look out the window, Thor stood behind Barton's chair to look out the cockpit.

It was a large craft flying in the air, supported by primitive fans, which did not fill him with confidence, but he supposed they knew no better yet. The craft glimmered in the light of the unobstructed light of the nearest star from all the glass and metal of its skin. And the flat top was used for launching smaller craft, where Barton brought their ship down as well.

Coulson opened the ramp, and by the time Thor was at the foot of it, a woman with red hair was striding across the flat to meet them. She walked lightly, her slim body wrapped in a close fitting dark outfit of all one piece.

"Coulson," she called in greeting, but her gaze went to Thor, and when he was close enough, she introduced herself to him, "Natasha Romanoff."

Thor knew the name. "You were the one with my brother when he was taken."

"I was," she answered with a nod.

"Then explain to me why I should not throw you from this craft," he demanded angrily, fists clenching.

"Thor—" Coulson started.

"Steady there, big guy," Barton said, and touched his shoulder. "She's a friendly, okay? Not the enemy."

Thor shrugged him off. "Do not touch me, mortal. Perhaps you are all enemies. Certainly you let enemies grow within your ranks unchecked."

"Yes," Natasha agreed. Her calm drew his attention. "We did let them grow within our ranks. And it's true, I failed to keep him safe. For that, I can only promise to do whatever I can to get him back."

"You give oath to that?" he asked.

"I do." She gave a sharp nod and he thought despite her slightness, there was inner strength to her.

"We all will," Coulson added. "That's why we're here. Come on, let's go to the command deck and find out the latest news."

Thor followed them into the craft and toward the front, where it opened up into a vast open space full of control equipment and a wide window looking out into the sky. He wished futilely for Mjolnir so he might fly himself, but at least this craft seemed a substitute for it, as they headed into the darkening east.

There was a woman dressed somewhat similarly to Romanoff, but in blue, at the center of the controls, but she left them to come greet them. "Agent Maria Hill, in command of the Helicarrier," she introduced herself.

"Thor, son of Odin, King of Asgard," he introduced, and since that was not really the point right now, he added, "Brother of Loki of Asgard, the one you call Lukas Onsdag, the Ice Demon of Arendelle."

She nodded, her face serious but her lips quirking. "That's... a lot of titles. Good to meet you. Come, this way, I'm sure you're anxious for an update."

There was a large round table on a raised level, set back from the operations area itself, and she gestured them all to sit. Thor had no interest in sitting, but the mortals did, except for Maria Hill.

"First," she addressed Thor directly, folding her arms, "on behalf of Director Fury and all of SHIELD, I want you to know this was nothing that came from our organization. It was not approved, endorsed, nor known by us. Agent Romanoff was given our proper instruction, which was to take Mister Onsdag back to Arendelle, with the hope that after we had done that, he might be inclined to meet with us. And we would ask him about the hammer," she added with a wry smile that things had gone so awry.

But Thor didn't smile. "Does he know about Mjolnir?"

Romanoff answered, "I think not. I mentioned New Mexico to him as a test, and he knew nothing about it. I was planning to show him the pictures of the hammer on the trip back to Arendelle. Flying seemed to disturb him, so I thought a distraction would help..."

This was worse. At least if Loki had known about the hammer, he might also guess that Thor was on the surface, too, and would know Thor would come for him. "He does not know I am here."

"We didn't suspect you were involved until recently," Hill said. Her gaze settled on Thor, and her lips tightened. In a more apologetic tone, she added, "You don't have any reason to believe me, I suppose, after what happened, but I'm doing everything I can to locate my _former_ agents and recover Mister Onsdag."

Thor listened to that, tending to believe her, but it was not quite an apology she was giving to him, so he merely nodded once and asked, "And what have you done? Have you found him?"

"No. No, we haven't found any of them. Yet." She moved nearer to the table and activated a display of light that levitated above the table. "The quinjet lifted off from Seville and its transceiver promptly shut off. I have data analysis on the case with radar and satellite data, but it looks like they flew low and hid among other air traffic as much as possible."

"They knew we would track them," Barton said.

Romanoff added, "They'd have bought more time, if Sitwell had let Rumlow shoot me. But he didn't."

"So at least Sitwell hasn't totally lost his mind," Hill muttered and shook her head. After a moment she returned to business, "We've traced some of their previous activity. After the revelation of the Ice Demon's return, Sitwell placed a call to an unknown number in the DC area. Shortly after, Ward and Rumlow both received short calls from the same number, probably a burner phone. Rumlow immediately left Morocco, leaving half his team there. I've ordered them taken to the Triskelion for interrogation, but I'm guessing he left them because they know nothing. The only thing we have is that Sitwell left his phone on, and it pinged a cell tower in southern Italy after they took off. It hasn't pinged since."

"They went east," Coulson said. "Russia?"

"I'd think they would've killed me for sure if they were Russians," Romanoff answered.

"Latveria?" Barton suggested. "Von Doom's always after new tech. And he's enough of a nutcase to do something like this."

Thor cut into the idle speculation impatiently. "You do not know where your lost quinjet is, your traitorous people, or my brother. You have no 'news,' only a lack of it."

"That's true. Unfortunately, the quinjet hasn't appeared at any other SHIELD site or airport," Hill said. "I've sent security alerts for the jet or any of the traitors from here to China. Nothing. So far. They'll surface. They can't hide forever."

"They do not need forever to destroy my brother," Thor reminded her. "You will locate them at once. Or the wrath of Asgard will fall upon this place and upon this world that it should dare attack a son of Odin again!" He smashed his hands upon the table, and whirled around to leave the confines of this primitive vessel and the useless mortals who could not find his brother for him.

He went back to the top deck of the ship and held out a hand to call Mjolnir. But to no avail.

Tipping his head back, he shouted, "Heimdall! Heimdall! Where is he?" Thor bellowed. "Your golden eyes must see him, where is he? Tell me! Open the Bifrost and send me to him!"

There was no answer. Not that Thor expected one, not really. Heimdall would not aid directly, when Thor's authority and status had been stripped from him. Yet surely he was listening. Thor changed tactics. "Tell Mother he's been taken! Let her decide what to do."

Because the king would hold to the letter of the law of their banishment, but Frigga would find a way to help. Loki was not the only trickster in the family, whatever people said.

But until she answered or until these mortals had some results, he was stuck here, unable to help. Loki was here, somewhere on this surface, not too far distant, but Thor couldn't go to him. He could do nothing. He let out a cry of frustration and rage, yanked the hatch off its hinges, and slammed it into the deck.

It wasn't Mjolnir, but it had a satisfactory smash to it, and enough weight to make his breath a little short and his muscles burn.

* * *

tbc...


	12. Seeking Help

**NOTE AND WARNING:** because I don't like this sort of thing to come as a shock, the second section (in Loki's POV) contains torture, including sexual assault. It's trimmed back from the AO3 version, but still, just so you know. *sad face*

* * *

 **CHAPTER TWELVE**

 **Seeking Help**

 **.**

Natasha watched Thor, while he stood in the shade of the conning tower and glowered at the sky. He'd finished his bellowing at the sky in an unfamiliar language and beating the hell out of the deck with the hatch in a rather impressive display of strength for someone who had supposedly lost his powers. What the hell could he do when he had his full powers?

A soft step was a warning, but she recognized it, as Clint slid into place next to her.

"Don't often see you in full gear on the carrier," he observed.

She didn't usually wear it at all, since her missions tended to be infiltration, but there was no doubt she felt more prepared with her tac suit on. "They'd never have taken Lukas if I'd been wearing it." She'd replayed it in her head a hundred times since: they wouldn't have been able to dart her, for one thing, and even without the sidearm, with Widow's Bite and the rest, she'd have been able to stop them. Lukas could have fought, too, if she could have prevented Sitwell from tasering him.

Of course, Rumlow might have shot her and Lukas instead, but she liked to think she could have stopped that, too. Anything besides what had happened.

Clint hesitated, hearing more of what she didn't say and addressed that instead, "You didn't know they were traitors."

"I knew something was wrong," she corrected. "I didn't act. I waited. Because they said they had orders." A small bitter laugh escaped her lips. "It's like I've learned nothing at all."

His hand closed on her forearm. "Hey. It'll be okay."

She shook her head. "You didn't see his face, Clint," she whispered. "He remembered the last time. I let it happen again." Since coming to the carrier, she'd accessed the entire SHIELD file on Lukas Onsdag and his time in the SSR- missions, powers, and Barnes' complete report on what he knew of Onsdag's time in Hydra captivity. It had been more detailed and accurate than the general pop culture knowledge she'd had. It had also given her more of an understanding of why he'd been so furious with Randolph, as well as letting her share Thor's urgency about going to his rescue.

Clint reminded her, "We'll get a location. All of SHIELD is looking for them. And once we know where they are, we fall on them like –" he paused and she heard the smile in his voice, as he finished, "with the wrath of a god on our side."

Her gaze flicked to Thor, looming over the deck like a thunderhead as the sun set to the aft.

"Yeah. Him, you, and me. Who else do we trust?" she asked.

"Phil." He grimaced. "Maria. That's about it." He rubbed his face with his hand, and his voice was heavy with realization, "Rumlow, Rollins, Ward, Sitwell... They just burned themselves, didn't they? Damn it."

She nodded, because it was the only logical thing to believe. No organization would burn all of its operatives like this so there had to be someone still in cover. Maria and Phil surely figured that, too, but Natasha wasn't interested in cleaning house with them. She had a weakened demigod to rescue first, and she couldn't trust that anyone at SHIELD wasn't going to tip her enemies. She folded her arms. "Yes. Also, since they left me alive, they're going to know you and I are coming for them. They know our tactics; they've been in the field with us."

He said, heartfelt, "Fuck."

That was the most terrible thing about betrayal. Not only that friends were now enemies, but their enemies were now intimately familiar with their former side's tactics. "We can't trust anyone in SHIELD. Not if we want any kind of surprise. And we need that, or they'll move him."

"We go alone," Clint suggested without hesitation. "Take Thor."

"Yes, but he knows nothing about our tech or military. We need operational support they don't expect." It was hard to believe she was even thinking about this, but it was the best choice. "We need Stark."

He blurted, "No way! You said yourself he was immature and reckless and-"

She cut him off. "And we can trust him. At least with this."

He didn't like it, but he knew she was right. And once she got past Clint's rather emotional first response, he started to plan. He blew out a breath. "Okay. Gotta get a hold of him without SHIELD knowing."

"I can do that." She'd been into the Stark Industries system, she knew how to attract Tony's attention without getting SHIELD's.

He accepted that and moved on. "We take a quinjet, go off the grid. Meet Stark. Maybe he has a way to find our traitors or our missing demon."

"I have a way." A deep, but low voice spoke to the left where Natasha would have sworn there was no one. She whirled, charging the Widow's Bite in reflex, even as she saw Thor standing there.

For such a big man, he had moved silently, and a smile danced on his face for startling them, as he held up a hand in a warding gesture.

There was a large black raven sitting on his left shoulder. It was the size of an eagle, with pure black feathers, and one alert yellow eye examined her with a very human awareness.

Her stomach tightened at the sight. Even the revelation of Lukas's real identity and watching him turn into someone cold and powerful with Randolph, hadn't impressed on her the idea that these two were gods. Or at least had once been called gods long ago by people with no notion of other worlds. But the giant raven on his shoulder seemed a thing of ancient powers, not of mortal men.

Thor seemed to take the bird for granted. "It seemed a conversation I should hear. My mother sent Muninn with this." He opened his other hand to reveal a thumb-sized piece of uncut aquamarine gemstone in his palm. "It is a stone imbued with a seeking spell. It will help us find him." His lips quirked in a wry, sad smile. "If we were reversed and Loki with his full power, he would be able to learn my location from it. I must use it with less precision, but I know we head in the right direction."

The stone glinted and flashed with a small motion of Thor's wrist. Though the sky was the burnished indigo of falling night and the lights of the Helicarrier's deck were yellow, the crystal gleamed with a sharp white light of its own.

Magic. That was magic.

A door suddenly opened in her mind – _magic_. She had seen it before.

She gasped and put a hand to her head as suddenly there was something in there that wasn't before. "Nat!" Clint called in alarm, but she held him off with her other hand.

"I'm okay. Oh my god. Magic. It's real." She looked at Thor and told him, her voice breathless. "Trolls. I saw trolls, and then they- they took it away. I forgot. They made me forget." Her lip quivered, a tiny bit, and her eyes met Clint's, because he knew. This time when he offered a hand on her arm, she let him.

"You saw the stone troll colony?" Thor asked with a delighted smile that faded when he noticed her reaction. "They are very secretive and do not allow many outsiders to know they exist. When did you see them?"

"Lukas went there, to see if-" She frowned and shook her head trying to settle the memories back where they belonged. "To heal his arm and to get his powers back. But they refused or couldn't. They showed him... a funeral. For his daughter, I think. A memory. He was upset." Which reminded her of something he should know. "They took the book," she told him. "The rabbit science book. Lukas found it in Spain, that's why we went there, but they took it with him."

"Elsa's book? That is ill news that he should find and lose it again," he said heavily. "With luck we will recover it, too."

"I saved a loose page. It's in my quarters, here. So at least that's safe."

"Then something will survive of it. Thank you, Lady Natasha. I apologize for my unjust accusations; you were not at fault."

"I was." She refused the absolution. "I should've stopped them."

He considered her, and she wondered what he saw, before he said, "And what fault goes to me, who is the root cause of Loki being on this world at all?" His face almost unbearably kind, looking down at her. "Fulfill your oath to rescue him, and your debt is paid."

It was a strange relief to let him set the terms. She didn't have to balance her ledger herself, but do this thing and it would be done. It felt easy, but right as well. No wonder people followed religions.

Thor's free hand petted the bird. "Go back, Muninn. Tell Mother I will find him."

The raven launched itself into flight, the immense wings sending a gust of wind over her, and she soon lost sight of the bird against the sky. Lowering her head, she looked to the two men. "We leave Coulson and Hill out of this. I trust them, but not the people around them. We don't know who's left as a spy who can tip off the enemy we're coming."

Clint nodded. "I'll take Thor to the armory and gear up."

"We go before shift change."

They agreed, and when they were gone, Natasha inhaled a deep breath, wiped any indication that she had a plan off her face and went back inside. She needed a computer terminal to send a message to Tony Stark and decide where to meet with him.

* * *

Loki started awake out of his doze, as he heard the door open. The uncaring experimenters were bad enough, but Strucker's gloating was worse. He'd broken the rest of Loki's fingers on his left hand, trying to persuade him to heal himself, and now his hand was a swollen unusable mass. Even if it had been free of the cuff, Loki wouldn't have been able to use it.

His visitor was Rumlow. He sauntered up within Loki's view and smiled to see the mess of his hand. "Looks like they got started already." The sadistic smirk widened. "But they want you to get a lot better acquainted with someone, and I said, me and my team, well, we'd be glad to help out. Ward especially, he wants to teach you a lesson. But I get to go first."

Loki tried not to tense, unsure what he intended except it was sure to be unpleasant.

Rumlow's dark eyes swept down his body, and his hand was suddenly grabbing Loki's cock. He let out a protesting cry and jerked his hips as far as he could, rattling the cuffs on his ankles. Rumlow let go and hit Loki across the face. "Feisty. You should've learned how to behave by now. But I have just the thing. Been reading about you in our files."

He went away and Loki lay there, trying to calm his racing heart, and reminding himself that he couldn't vomit while there was a gag in his mouth or he'd choke on it. No matter how awful, he had to get through this.

The respite was too brief as Rumlow returned with a something hidden in his hand. "Just like old times," He gloated and held up a long nail for Loki to see. Loki saw it and _knew_. His heart lurched into a fast, hard rhythm again, and he was shaking his head in denial, as much as he could with the collar around his neck.

 _No, no, not that. Not that, not again, please not that, not again_...

But Rumlow didn't care about his garbled pleas except as entertainment, and strapped his right hand down tighter to pound the nail through his wrist.

 _Zola and Schmidt's faces as they'd put the bolts in his wrist... Zola's little beady eyes watching his face as his gloved hand had very impersonally stroked him... forcing Loki to spill into the collector tube_...

Past and present combined – shame and panic and disgust filled him as another hand groped him. He couldn't fight, couldn't object, as pain from the nail driven in his flesh rocked through him.

He hoped the pain would be enough to keep him from responding. Maybe they'd give up if he couldn't do it, maybe if he was in enough agony, the rest of him wouldn't respond to the stimulation. He tried to move his hands, making himself feel sick and faint. Rumlow chuckled as his hand grew full, and Loki shut his eyes and prayed to die.

"Oh, yes, you do like it. You want it. Maybe when Strucker's done with you, I'll keep you as my whore. You're the one who got fucked by the horse, right? So kinky- this must be pretty tame for you. Maybe I should bump it up a notch."

He closed his eyes and let the pain fill him, concentrating on the rapid thudding of his heart and how that echoed all through his body. That was all he was. He didn't have to feel what was happening or hear the words; he could put the pain between him and the outside world. He could push grabbing hands and probing fingers and needles far away, on the other side of the wall.

It was all happening to someone else.

Some infinite time later, Strucker came in, irritated that Loki's fingers were no better. "You are not healing. Why are you not healing?" He picked up Loki's hand and dropped it back down to the table, sending shards of agony splintering through him. "This is very disappointing. Why would you stop yourself from healing? You healed your arm, but not this? Very unwise, Ice Demon."

Loki would have explained that he was not the one who had healed his arm, but Strucker didn't remove the gag, so he couldn't.

"Rumlow enjoyed getting your sample," Strucker told him. Loki's stomach heaved and he choked, struggling to breathe. Strucker gave a little smile. "Oh, I see he got your attention. Excellent. The material was interesting. The genetic variations were quite striking. So next it will be Ward's turn to, what is it he said? To become _better acquainted_? You can stop it any time, once you show me the healing," Strucker promised. Loki knew it was a lie, that Strucker had no intention of not taking his samples, but for a moment he wanted to believe.

 _Give me my powers back, All-father, so I can heal it. Don't let him come back_...

But if he did heal, Strucker would have no reason not to do worse. Zola had done worse to learn how it worked, and Strucker and his people were children compared to Zola, who at least had been careful with his specimen.

 _With powers I can get out of here. I can kill them all. All I need is my strength and I can get free, please, All-Father, I learned my lesson, I learned, I swear I will never do anything so foolish again. Let me escape before it's too late. Before they take everything from me. No one else knows where I am. They don't know I'm taken if Natalya's dead. No one else can help me_.

 _Please, I beg you. I begged you before and you didn't listen, I beg you one last time to release the block you put on my powers. Or send someone to help me. Do something_.

But his silent prayers and pleas went unanswered, and his powers didn't return.

Strucker did. His scientists did. Rumlow and Ward did.

* * *

... tbc...


	13. The Rescue Begins

**CHAPTER 13**

 **The Rescue Begins**

 **.**

Thor wasn't sure what he'd been expecting for their meeting, but an overgrown ruin in a forest valley wasn't it. "What is this place?"

"Yeah," Clint agreed as he swung the jet into landing position. "What did you think was here? It's been abandoned for fifty years."

"Sixty-seven years," Natasha corrected, and her eyes looked to Thor, expecting him to understand the significance of the year. But all he knew was that it had been during Loki's last visit to Midgard. When he said nothing, she added, "This was the Hydra facility that Lukas and Captain America destroyed on their own that winter. I read the Ice Demon file on the Helicarrier, and I know Tony can find it, too."

Thor nodded and looked upon the ruin with more appreciation. There was little left; tumbled stone and concrete, covered with vegetation. A road remained visible only because of the way the grass and the sparser trees grew. Once on the ground, he went outside. The air smelled pleasant of the surrounding forest, and seemed untouched by mortals in the years since.

"When the SSR went back after the war to make sure it wasn't re-occupied," Natasha explained, coming to stand next to him, "There wasn't much left to do. Captain Rogers and Lukas had destroyed it thoroughly."

"So they did." There was a partial fence still standing, green with vines that loved the climbing frame. A corner of the property was close to a cliff in the taller hillside.

"It was winter, when they were here," Natasha murmured. "Deep in snow. So Hydra was totally unprepared for an attack."

"Two guys did all that?" Clint asked, turning to look at the main building's tumbled lump that now had a tree growing through it on one end. "Nice."

The high-pitched whine of something approaching fast, made Natasha grab for her gun, while Clint shook his bow to open it into firing configuration. Thor admired the elegance of his weapon and reached to touch the firearm at his back, but he lowered his hand as a figure in red flew fast right over them, and then swung around and came back.

Now this was interesting. It was definitely a step beyond anything he had seen thus far technologically on Earth, as Tony Stark landed in his armored flying suit with admirable grace.

The face shield flipped back and the helmet folded away. In a moment the entire suit had collapsed into a handled-case at his feet, leaving Tony Stark there in a casual shirt and trousers. "Rushman," he greeted her with a stiff nod. This is it?" He gestured to the ruin. "You brought me here for that?"

"No, not for that," Natasha answered. "You know what happened here, though. You know who it was."

Stark rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes, the two greatest 'heroes'," he made sarcastic air quotes around that, "of the second world war. Buddies of my dad. Really couldn't care less about that ancient history."

"So why did you come?" Natasha challenged.

Stark gave her a look Thor recognized as one of those Loki leveled at him regularly that suggested Thor was being deliberately stupid just to aggravate him. "Because Hydra."

"It's not Hydra," Clint objected. "They were ended after the war."

Stark made a rude buzzer sound. "Wrong, thank you for playing. I cracked your boy Rumlow's accounts, and let me tell you what a piece of human garbage he is," he told them. "He was all over what I can only describe as Hydra supremacist bullshit websites."

She and Clint exchanged a dismayed look. "SHIELD never caught this?" Clint demanded.

Stark snorted. "Nobody looked hard enough. Your pal Fury was too busy preening in the mirror about how badass he is."

"So Hydra took my brother," Thor declared, "as I thought."

That got Stark's attention. "Your brother? So you're from Arendelle?" he asked.

"Asgard," Thor answered, and to head off the inevitable question, he added, "It is a different world. And irrelevant. This 'piece of human garbage' holds my brother captive. Do you know where he is?"

Stark blinked, considered that for a moment and said, "Okay, first of all, being from _another planet_ is not irrelevant. Another planet." He was quiet with amazement for about a second, before he digested it and said with brisk aplomb, "No, I don't."

"Then you have no use here," Thor told him brusquely and turned away to address Natasha instead. "We will use the stone."

Stark sniffed. "Well, I feel thoroughly dismissed. And manipulated," he added as an afterthought, "Don't think I didn't notice. But I'll play along. I don't know where he is, but I don't think it'll be hard to figure it out. You got a computer on that thing with a satellite uplink?" He nodded at the quinjet. "Something built after 1996?"

Natasha's lips quirk upward. She'd claimed Stark couldn't resist the chance to prove himself smarter than SHIELD, or to be a hero, and he was proving her right.

"Oh, don't smirk at me, Rushman," Stark warned, heading for the jet. "I'm going to interface it with JARVIS, so this doesn't take all day. You got something to eat on this thing? Flying always makes me hungry..."

His voice trailed behind him as he went up into the plane, the others following.

* * *

It took longer than Natasha had hoped, but not nearly as long as she feared to trace out the new Hydra hidey-hole. While Clint and Thor took directional sweeps with his magical rock to triangulate the position, Tony and Natasha used the quinjet's computer and communications gear to analyze intel reports to unearth this new Hydra.

They were taking a break from flight. Natasha and Tony were at the laptops, while Clint and Thor were at the plotting table trying to refine a new direction to try since the stone was accurate but translating it to a compass heading was less so, and the quinjet was on the ground near a cell tower to leech off its strength. Tony suddenly slammed a palm down on the table next to him, startling everyone with the sound after there'd been several minutes of quiet.

"Ah, son of a bitch! Got 'em! You can't beat JARVIS at this game, losers. Rotate your IP all you want, he's faster."

"You found them?" Thor asked eagerly.

"Sokovia," Tony announced, looking smug, and then started to type. "Now we need to refine it. Some phone content sorting on keywords like 'world conquest', 'Hydra Rulez', and 'Schmidt 4EVA', then cell tower triangulating that content..."

But Natasha knew. She only had to call up a file she'd already looked at. "They're here."

"So fast?" Clint asked. "Are you sure?"

She turned the laptop screen so they could see the renovated castle up on its hill above the town of Kreb. "Once Stark said Sokovia, I knew who it had to be. Wolfgang Von Strucker bought this place for pennies in the wake of the collapse of Yugoslavia. A war his family helped finance, on both sides."

"How do you know he's the one?" Tony asked. "I'm sure he's a swell guy, but there was a lot of war profiteering."

She glanced at him and said dryly, "I imagine so. But in this case, his grandfather, General Von Strucker of Austria, was an early supporter of Schmidt's first supersoldier program. He was shot by the Allies north of here, but left a wife and a teenage son already indoctrinated. The son ended up running contraband behind the Iron Curtain, and Wolfgang followed his dad's footsteps as both smuggler and fascist."

"Nat, how do you know this?" Clint asked, knowing her well enough to guess why she hadn't had to look any of it up.

"Because he told me. When I was at that castle for a job."

"Oh, let me guess," Tony said, folding his arms, "you became his legal secretary to spy on him for SHIELD."

She gave him a flat stare. "I met him before I joined SHIELD. He wanted to recruit me, but I didn't want a megalomaniac for a boss."

He noticed her dig, but retorted, "Then I better give you the bad news on Nick Fury."

"Stark, enough already," Clint complained. "Nat? Go on."

She tapped the castle's image on the screen. "He was clever enough to bury the support, but now that I know Hydra still exists? It all fits: the obsession with his family legacy, the willingness to keep in the shadows until it's time to return, taking over this fortress, and..." she typed to access a report of Strucker's activities, "he's been on SHIELD's radar recently for recruiting bioengineers and buying high-level lab equipment." She didn't have to tell them why Strucker would want those things: recreating Hydra experiments on humans to create supersoldiers. No wonder Hydra had burned so many of its operatives for a chance to grab the Ice Demon again; Strucker had already been interested in the subject. "I bet Lukas is here, but if he's not, Strucker knows where he is."

"Where'd they hide a quinjet?" Clint said. "Airfield outside of town?"

At his own station, Stark called up the fortress for himself. "Nope, it's there. Or at least the hangar I bet they're storing it in is." He pointed to the rock wall beneath the fortress. "This is painted to match but look at the shadows here and the dark line here. It's a door."

Thor moved closer, a looming presence. "This castle. We are few and the walls look strong. We must attack from above."

"We need to blow the hell out of that hangar so they can't flee," Clint said. "Can you do that, Stark?"

Stark gave him a look. "You're asking _me_ if I can blow something up? The question you should be asking is whether I can blow the hangar without destroying the whole fortress, and the answer is yes." He typed up something rapidly. "Let's take a look at our new friends on satellite. See what they've been doing."

Between Stark gaining access to data he shouldn't and Natasha's personal knowledge of the fortress, they had a good idea of the layout and could make a plan to get inside.

Then, to her surpise, Thor pulled the stone from his pants pocket and held it out to her. "Take it," he told her. "We are to provide distraction at the perimeter while you enter. So you will need it most."

Hesitantly she clasped it, expecting it to feel hot. But it felt like a large chunk of crystal, a few dull edges but round enough to fold her fingers around without discomfort. As soon as it left Thor's touch, the glint within flickered out, and the stone sat in her palm, inert. "What do I do? It's not working."

"Hold it and think of him," he instructed.

"It's like a compass," Clint offered, knowing from when he and Thor had used it to triangulate Loki's position. "The light brightens when it's oriented properly."

"And you will feel you are going nearer," Thor added.

She cupped the stone in one hand, its longer axis along her thumb, thinking this was stupid. But she shut her eyes and thought of Lukas. Just his face at first, since she had no idea of his current condition. She pictured his eyes, the frame of dark brows and jet black hair, and his lips curled into a knowing smirk.

"You got it, Nat. Look," Clint said.

She opened her eyes and saw a small but present glow, and she smiled. Magic. "Clint, watch the controls."

Standing, she walked back the length of the quinjet, wondering how it would feel going further away. The light didn't dim or flicker, but there was a brief cold sensation in the pit of her stomach, that faded when she turned around and walked back forward.

"I'm gonna want to scan that," Tony told her as she walked past. "Like, with every instrument known to man."

"It's Thor's, talk to him," she refused, and didn't smile at his muttering under his breath, as she went back to the cockpit. She slipped the stone in her front pouch where it fit nicely, and sat back at the controls.

"I felt it," she confirmed to Thor. "Now let's go get Loki."

That was his true name, not the various aliases he'd used on Earth. It sat on her oddly, as if it didn't belong. She shook her head, reminding herself that "Luke Rendell" and "Lukas Onsdag" were no more real than Natalie Rushman – except she remembered how excited he'd been to have that passport in his hand. It had been real to him, at least for that time when he'd had no other identity. It would probably be a relief to him that he could discard both Luke Rendell and Lukas Onsdag, and be simply Loki again.

Though, of course, that was assuming she rescued him while he was still anyone at all.

* * *

The flight to Sokovia felt like crawling to Thor, who spent the time reviewing their information on the fortress and planning his attack. He was without Mjolnir and without his greater powers, but he still had centuries of experience at small group sorties. Which, he realized, they usually dealt with by rushing the target until it fell or they were forced to regroup to another plan, at which point Loki would come up with something more sneaky.

Except the last few quests Loki had suggested a frontal attack and volunteered to steal the treasure himself. He hadn't cared about the risk, and had scoffed at other people's caution, as if the change were in them, not in him. Fandral and Sif had separately taken Thor aside to ask him if Loki was all right.

" _Of course! He is merely eager for battle_ ," Thor had told them. _"Perhaps his adventures on Midgard have whet his thirst!_ "

He had been such a fool, allowing Loki to trick him, when he should have known better.

What clever plan would Loki have made to enter this fortress? He asked Natasha, hoping for more inspiration, "When Loki and Captain Rogers entered that facility? How did they attack it?"

"They dropped inside from the cliff and, near as I can tell in the after-action report, attacked all they came across, freed the prisoners, and blew it up."

"Oh. I hoped for clever tactics."

Natasha heard his disappointment and her lips lifted in a quick smile. "Not the same plan we have?"

He inclined his head in rueful agreement. "Precisely. Loki usually proposes plans with more subtlety."

"Not a lot of time for subtle. Once we blow our advantage of surprise, they're going to have numbers and weapons," she said.

Stark scoffed and called from the back, where he was checking his armor suit components before donning them again. "Maybe, but we definitely have the advantage in brains. I lost twenty IQ points reading those forums. And I doubt they have as many to spare."

"Gear up," Clint called from the pilot's seat. "We're fifteen minutes out, and I'm taking us in low and fast."

Thor needed little time to gear up. He longed for Mjolnir, but this firearm would do, in its simplicity. And he would get his brother back.

Natasha handed him the small ear piece for the comm device and they checked them swiftly. Tony Stark activated his armor suit which flew into place around his body with a beautiful precision, leaving only the faceplate open. The center light glowed brightly. "Ready to do this?" he asked Thor, who gave him a nod back. Tony Stark, Man of Iron, punched the ramp release, to let the wind fill the chamber.

" _Setting autopilot program,"_ Clint reported and rose from his chair to come back to meet them.

"Go time," Man of Iron declared and the faceplate snapped shut, as the repulsors on his feet and hands activated, lifting him into the air and out the back to start his distraction and to hit the hangar.

A few minutes later, the quinjet slowed and Clint shouted, _"Go, go, we're in the pocket, go!"_

Without hesitation, Thor jumped off the end of the ramp, as above, he heard Clint's bow start to fire. to clear the way. Natasha slithered over the edge of the parapet and was gone from sight, as Thor began the battle to free his brother.

 _I am coming, Loki. I am coming, hold on for me._

* * *

... tbc...


	14. Hydra's Prize

Natasha crept through the base, while her teammates kept Hydra busy. Between the stone and her knowledge of Sokovian, which was an oddly mispronounced version of Russian to her ears, she found the right way to their prisoner. He was not in the depths, like she had expected, but upstairs in the fortress, in what had once been a bedroom and was now transformed into a laboratory.

After she took out the guards, she used one of their passkeys to open the door. Underneath bright lights, Lukas was there.

She kept back the shocked exclamation, but only barely. He was strapped down and gagged on the metal exam table, naked, with an IV drip in one arm, and a second needle in his other arm taking blood. But far worse, they'd cut across his abdomen and closed it with only a few surgical staples. Even from here the wound looked inflamed with infection.

His eyes were closed and he didn't stir for the door, or for her footsteps as she hurried to his side. "Lukas! Lukas, I need you to wake up."

His eyelids flickered as she unstrapped the gag and removed it, but there was little awareness. "Lukas." She laid her hand on his pale cheek, caressing gently. His skin was definitely too warm to the touch. "Hey, wake up. We have to get you out of here."

His eyes opened again, rising only about halfway, but she was glad he could be roused at all. He also seemed to recognize her, with a faint frown as if he didn't know if she was real.

"I'm here. Natasha," She smiled a little and corrected herself to the name he called her, "Natalya. I found you." She leaned in closer and smoothed his cheek. "I'm here." His eyes fluttered, and his cracked lips parted for a moan that was maybe an attempt at her name. "Hush," she urged him. "Don't try to speak. Your brother's here. Thor is here. We've come to rescue you - me and Thor and a few friends. We're here. Hold on for me, Lukas."

His chin bobbed in a nod, and his eyes drifted shut again. She tapped the comm. "I have Lukas. But he's in bad shape. Northeast corner, third level."

" _Coming_ ," Thor declared.

" _I have eyes on Sitwell_ ," Stark suddenly announced. " _Six-pack of snakes with him, heading your way, Barton_."

" _Got 'em_."

She examined Lukas. The fingers of his left hand had been deliberately dislocated or broken and left untended, so they lay limply on the metal table, swollen and twisted. There was a long metal nail through his other wrist; not to hold him down, only to cause pain and to invoke memories of his previous captivity.

It was not the worst case of torture she'd ever seen. It was not worse than something she had done herself. It was, however, the first she had seen that filled her heart with cold rage that someone needed to pay for this. People she had thought were her allies had done this, and they needed to answer for it.

So she gave the order. "Hawkeye, code zero-zero."

Barton answered, tone grim with understanding, " _Understood_."

" _What does that mean_?" Tony asked.

"No survivors," she answered flatly. "This place goes down and everyone with it." She thought Tony might object, but he didn't. Tamping down the anger so she didn't hurt Lukas, she was careful freeing him from EKG and other monitoring wires, and the restraints. He didn't wake to realize he was no longer cuffed and collared to the table, but she felt better.

Ransacking the cabinets, she found a cotton sheet and rolls of gauze. She pulled the IV and the port in the other arm taking blood, wrapping the sites with the gauze. She hadn't finished when Thor smashed his way in, taking the door right off its hinges. When it slammed to the floor, Lukas jerked awake, eyes snapping open.

"Loki!" Thor bounded across the floor to the table. But his expression fell in distress, when he saw Lukas lying there, long wound across his stomach as if they'd tried eviscerating him. "Brother."

Lukas' eyes focused on him, face tightening, as he frowned in confusion. Through his parted lips, he managed to murmur, "Thor?"

"I am here, Loki." His voice grew ragged and his big hand very gently stroked Lukas' black hair from his high forehead. "You are safe now." He glanced at Natasha, blue eyes horrified. "He isn't healing."

"No, he's not," Natasha agreed. "Can you carry him? We need to get out of here."

They tucked the sheet around him, trying to protect the raw places on his skin. He moaned at the handling, as they wrapped him up. Thor was careful as he scooped Loki into his arms, but the position moved and compressed the wound. His legs kicked out, as he let out a gasping, ragged cry, eyes rolling back.

Thor's arms tightened, to pull him closer. "I have you, Loki, I have you," he whispered to him, rubbing his cheek against the black hair, trying to comfort him.

He was too far gone in pain to have any idea what was happening anymore, Natasha thought. But since there was not even an aspirin in this room, they had to get going, no matter how much it hurt him.

Bleak blue eyes lifted to meet hers. "He needs help."

She touched comms. "Stark, the quinjet-"

Stark didn't let her finish. " _I have a better plan. There's a jeep in the east courtyard. Take that to the city hospital. Down the hill, pass two streets, turn left_."

" _Do we trust them_?" Barton asked.

She looked at Lukas, limp in his brother's arms, and answered, "We don't have a lot of choice."

" _They can't all be Hydra scumbags_ ," Stark said.

"We must find a human doctor," Thor said.

"All right," she decided. "Stark's plan. You go down."

He started but stopped, when he knew she wasn't following. "You will not come?"

"I will. But first," she glanced at the blood bag hanging off the edge of the bed, "I have to burn this place to the ground." Thor frowned, not understanding. "They took samples, Thor. We can't allow any of it to be recovered."

Stark offered, " _I can put a rocket in your window, but we'll need something bigger for the building_."

"Do it," she ordered. "I'll set some explosives in the middle and meet you. Go!" That was to make Thor move, and she turned sharply and ran back down the hall, pulling out her phone to call Coulson.

" _Line is secure, Romanoff_ ," Coulson's familiar voice was welcome, as was his lack of recriminations or surprise.

"Coulson, this is a Hydra nest. We need to take it out."

" _Airstrike_?" he asked, and she smiled.

"You read my mind. Let me check the computers. Don't want HYDRA accessing remotely. Then bring this place down."

" _Upload to SHIELD first_ ," Coulson ordered. " _We need the intel_."

"Got it, boss," she replied, though she knew she wasn't going to upload anything. She didn't have time to sort it or break any encryption, and there was no way in hell she was letting SHIELD have any of the data on Lukas' physiology either. The list of people she trusted was very short, and scientists who would want data acquired via torture were not on it.

The building shuddered as Tony's rocket exploded in the room where Lukas had been held, and the building shook some more, though she wasn't sure if that meant he'd fired another explosive or that side of the fortress was collapsing. But she didn't worry too much about the rest of the fortress; it had taken the two rockets Iron Man had put into the hangar and subsequent jet fuel fire without doing more than shaking. It needed something much bigger to plow into the hill it sat on and collapse it from beneath.

She left no one alive as she made her way to the servers. She had no interest in letting any of them escape to start this foulness somewhere else. Hydra should have died sixty years ago, and they would die now, if she had any say in it.

The door to the server room had a window, and she could see Rumlow himself inside. It looked like he was transferring data to a portable hard drive. He didn't see her until she opened the door, and the surprise was fairly gratifying, even if he was too arrogant for fear. He didn't even reach for his sidearm. She stepped into the doorway, hands at her sides, wrists bent to hide what was in her hands behind her legs. "You should've run when you had the chance, traitor."

"You want to play, Romanoff?" he demanded. "I've seen you fight, you're nothing that special." Taking the knife out of his tac vest, he settled into a fighting stance as if he expected to fight her hand to hand.

"Play?" She smiled; for all his hardness, he was so naïve. He expected a 'fair' fight, when there was no such thing. "Let's play my favorite game. Catch." She pulled the pins off the two frag grenades in her hands and tossed them inside. His face transformed into shock and then fear that turned to terror, as she jumped back in the hall and yanked the door closed, shoving her own tactical knife through the handle to improvise a lock.

He ran to the door, pulling vainly at the handle and beating on the window trying to get out. She watched, as he screamed at her. She could have read his lips but she didn't bother – he was dead anyway.

She ducked aside, as the window blew out with the explosion. When she looked again, there was a growing electrical fire, the servers were a shredded mess, and Rumlow was dead on the ground.

Mission accomplished. Time to go find the rest of her team.

* * *

One second, one breath. Another second, another breath. Thor found himself counting them as he never had before. Each was so precious, trickling through his fingers, even as he held Loki against him to bring him to mortal medicine.

 _Where is his Gift, Father? How could you let him draw this close to death? I feel his mortality, a growing coldness within, though his skin feels aflame. Where is a healing stone? Surely you can send one of those and one to wield it, too, to save him_?

Thor emerged from the arched doorway into the open air and glanced up at the sky, wishing not only for Mjolnir to call the lightning for his frustration, but seeking a sign that Odin or Frigga or Heimdall or _someone_ was sending the Bifrost to aid them.

"Heimdall, open the Bifrost!" he shouted.

But there was no response. Thor turned his eyes back down again, to check on Loki's condition. He felt fragile, as if the flesh had melted from him, and Thor feared he might break other bones by accident if he held too tightly.

The earpiece buzzed and he heard Barton's voice, " _I see you, Thor. Heading down to meet you_."

Thor found the empty vehicle and placed Loki across the back seat, aghast at the blood on the sheet wrapped around him. Loki's eyes opened, looking glazed, and he let out a moan. "Be calm, brother," Thor told him. "We are bringing you to aid."

His lips parted. "Tell Amma-" he whispered, voice fading to nothing as a wave of pain shook him and his eyes shut again before he finished.

"No, Loki, do not do this," Thor implored him. He hoped Clint was quick so they could drive Loki to help. Perhaps these Midgardians had their own healing stones; they were growing more advanced from the childish state he had found when last he'd visited. He found a filthy towel on the floor and pressed it against the wound, trying to staunch the renewed bleeding. It was horrifying how much blood there was.

In his ear, he heard Stark's urgent warning, " _Thor, you got company_!"

Thor whirled around, expecting Hydra soldiers, but there was not. Two young people, boy and girl, were running straight at him. The boy held a gun. "Away from the car," he ordered in the local tongue. "We need it."

Behind them were the sound of pounding feet that explained their urgency. They were running away from the fortress.

Thor held up his empty, bloodied hands in lack of threat. "My brother is injured; I need to rescue him from this place. Help us."

"We need the car, not you," the youth snapped. "Move away."

She put a hand on him and pushed the gun down. "Pietro, no. His brother. Look at him." She gestured to the open door of the car, where Loki's feet were still dangling off the seat.

Pietro didn't want to, but gave in. "Okay. We all go."

"Our mother is a doctor, we will take you," the girl offered.

But as they hurried toward Thor, he saw Strucker's men coming around the corner, firing. Thor shoved both children down to take cover behind the door. Pietro fired his weapon, but it was only one against all the guns, and Thor knew it wasn't enough. These two young people – the boy with nearly white hair and blue eyes that reminded him of Loki's daughter, and the girl with a fierce caring heart that could belong to his mother – they had to escape. They could take Loki to aid.

Thor walked out in front of them, shielding them with his body, determined to give them time.

No matter the cost.

* * *

... tbc...


	15. Thunder God

Natasha was a level above, meeting Clint, and saw it happen, too far away to help.

Six Hydra soldiers, including that snake Rollins, fired at Thor. His body jerked once, twice, again, blood formed on his light t-shirt, and he stumbled to one knee. He pushed himself back to his feet, so great was his strength, but then he collapsed into the mud, flat on his front.

"Oh no, oh shit!" Clint exclaimed, and grabbed for an arrow.

"NO!" the girl screamed and grabbed the gun from Thor's back waist, where he'd been keeping it unused. The two kids emptied their weapons at the Hydra minions. Clint was more focused, sending first one arrow take out the one they didn't see coming up on their flank, while Natasha shot out her own line, hooking on the stone crenelation, and she swung down to the courtyard, letting go to drop and roll. Coming up with her gun back in hand, she shot Rollins in the head, and Clint dropped the last one from above as the kids ran out of ammo.

Then she hurried to Thor's side. "Thor! Oh, God, this is bad," she muttered. Multiple hits, one square in the chest. He was going to die, she was sure of it.

She glanced at Loki, limp and unaware in the passenger seat. If he lived through this and discovered his brother had died trying to rescue him...

The air went still. That strange breathless weight of the sky during a hurricane fell on her. It silenced the birds and the wind stopped, even the dust seemed to hover in place. The hair on her arms went up, and she could smell the ozone in the air. And she abruptly remembered that Thor was the _God of Thunder_.

"Nat, move back!" Clint shouted, not far away, landing after shooting his own line.

She collected the two kids, who were puzzled and tried to resist. "I can help him!" the girl protested, but Natasha grabbed her around the waist and pulled her back.

"No, you can't," Natasha told her firmly. "Wait."

Faintly in her ear she heard Tony blurt out, " _Something small, super fast_ -"

She couldn't see it happen. One moment Thor was dying, or dead on the ground; the next, he was standing on his feet, hand thrust above his head holding a large metal hammer in his hand, as lightning struck down from an empty sky and thunder rattled the entire valley.

The flash was blinding and she had to blink furiously, trying to push away the afterimage. But it didn't matter, it was pretty obvious what had happened: Thor had his powers back.

 _Bozhe moi_. It didn't emerge from her lips, but it was a child's words, and a child's awe staring at that. It should have been frightening, and it was – there was nothing her little spy tricks could do against that power – but it also gave her a feeling that shook her out of her cynicism and bitterness about the world. There were still … wonders.

There was _magic_. Seeing him call the lightning, restored, anything was possible.

His clothes were now different as well, an armored suit of blue and silver and a flowing scarlet cape that billowed in the renewed breeze. He was grinning in relief and joy, as he lowered the hammer to inspect it.

He noticed Natasha first, and the grin dropped away as her presence reminded him of what was wrong. He turned again, cape swirling, to address the two local kids. They were staring, wide-eyed, not even close to understanding what was going on. Not that Natasha understood either, but at least she had some kind of basis for grasping it; these two had nothing, and they both were as wide-eyed as if they might never recover.

"You said your mother was a doctor?" Thor asked, as if nothing had happened. He was speaking Sokovian suddenly.

"What – what are you?" the boy asked, voice shaking. He had stepped in front of his sister, though he seemed well aware that the gesture was useless.

"I am Thor. Son of Odin All-father, King of Asgard," he introduced himself. Then with a quirk of his lips he answered more simply, "I am not from this world."

"You saved us," she said, licking her lips, and looking both determined and anxious. "You _died_ , saving us."

Thor flashed a cocky grin and twirled the hammer. "Apparently that was what was required to restore my powers."

If Thor could get his back through sacrifice, why had Loki not, Natasha wondered. But, she supposed, his injuries were because he had been targeted and attacked, not through sacrificing himself for another. She didn't doubt he would have tried to intervene if the situation in Seville had been reversed, with them taking her, but he'd not had the opportunity.

Watching Thor was quite a change from the more subdued person he'd been before without his powers, but he was enjoying the stunned adulation a bit too much. She reminded him, "Thor, I'm glad you're better, but unless you can fix him, Lukas is going to bleed out if we don't get him to a hospital."

The kids exchanged a look, and she stepped forward, "We will take you."

But before they could go, Tony's voice came over their comm, " _Strucker coming your way_!"

"Stay back," Thor commanded and stepped away from them, twirling his hammer. Natasha kept the others from trying to help him.

Strucker and two minions ran around the corner. Thor called the challenge. "Strucker!"

Strucker skidded to a halt, staring at the group before him. "Kill them," he ordered.

They didn't have a chance to try, as Thor threw his hammer straight into Strucker and slammed him into the fortress wall. Strucker's mouth opened, and the monocle fell from his eye. He was stuck into the bricks of the wall, as the hammer returned to Thor's hand. Strucker's hands went to his chest, which was crushed by the blow, he looked startled, and then he crumpled to the ground.

That left his two sidekicks too frozen to react, and Natasha shot one, as Clint took the other through the throat.

" _You better move that party_ ," Stark advised in her ear. " _We got a heavy missile inbound_."

"Everyone in the vehicle!" Thor commanded. "I will follow above, with Stark." He looked then at the two kids. "Pietro and?"

"Wanda," she answered. "Maximova."

"Well met, Wanda Maximova," he said gravely. "Please help my brother."

"We will," she promised and jerked her head. "Pietro, drive." He took the wheel, and started the car. She jumped into the front passenger seat, Natasha squeezed in next to Loki's feet, while Clint climbed into the back cargo area, checking their six.

" _Inbound is thirty seconds out_ ," Stark reported.

"Thirty seconds, GO!" Natasha ordered.

Pietro stomped on the gas and the jeep lurched into motion, gathering speed as they headed down the narrow road as fast as he could manage.

The bumpy road made Loki stir, his eyes flickering, but she was distracted by the sight of Thor flying, behind them. He was flying. Like Tony, but without Tony's visible means of propulsion.

Then, behind him, she saw the bright flash of an incoming missile light up the castle. "Everyone hold on!" she yelled as a massive thump rattled the ground and their vehicle.

Pietro struggled to keep control of the jeep and keep it on the road as all around them the ground bucked and heaved. Natasha threw herself across Loki, trying to keep him from sliding around and damaging himself further. Behind them the castle started to crumple and burn, as it fell into the open pit the explosion caused beneath it.

" _Going to keep an eye out for any stragglers_ ," Tony announced. " _Join you later_."

Off the hill the going was easier, and Pietro drove with assurance through the streets heading for the hospital that Stark had told them about.

"Why were you in Strucker's fortress?" Natasha asked in English. It was not the casual question she made it sound; if they gave the wrong answer, she was going to put a bullet in the back of their heads. Because it was suspicious that a doctor's children just happened to be in a Hydra fortress and just happened to be pushed in their direction...

Wanda answered, "There is much trouble in the city after the war. Many people with no job, no money. Strucker offered work. So Pietro went. I said no, Strucker was a bad man, this we knew a long time," she reminded him sharply, "But no, he must go." Pietro heaved the sigh of the harassed sibling. She paid no attention. "He stopped talking to us. He disappeared. I knew Pietro would not leave without goodbye. I wanted to find him, so I went in."

"She found me," Pietro explained shortly. "I was okay. She came in time." He reached across to pat her knee.

"Some I found dead," Wanda added softly. "A hole with bodies. They were … test subjects, they said. Strucker wanted to make..." She trailed off, either not knowing the word or not wanting to say it.

But Natasha knew. She glanced down at Loki and finished for her, "Supersoldiers." Strucker had been trying to make supersoldiers from the blood of a god, because hadn't it worked with Barnes? Hydra knew that.

Loki had passed out again, and Natasha held the wad against the wound, to staunch the blood as much as she could.

The jeep's brakes squealed as Pietro pulled into the emergency entrance. Wanda rushed in first to shout they needed help.

Soon the familiar pattern of the hospital swirled around them; it made little difference where one was in the world, emergency hospitals seemed much the same. They bundled Loki onto a stretcher and into a triage room, and then quickly to a surgery.

Wanda was there, speaking to a woman with dark hair, who was wearing surgical scrubs. Then she turned to introduce them to each other: "Mother, these are the ones that helped us escape. This is my mother, Doctor Magda Maximova."

Natasha didn't smile as she looked the doctor in the eye. "My name is Natalya Alianovna Romanova. Not long ago I was part of a very elite division of the KGB. I will go in with you to the surgical suite, Doctor. And I will watch. If you do anything but help this man, I know your children's faces." She delivered the threat coldly, meaning every word. Black Widow could and would punish the children for the mistakes of the parent without qualm. Natasha would rather not, but Natasha was also very sorry she hadn't saved Lukas from being captured in the first place, and she would do anything to keep him safe now.

Magda lifted her chin, uncowed by the threat. "That is not necessary. I will help."

The doctor did as she promised in surgery, first the stomach wound and when he was stable, with the help of an orthopedist they worked on his hands.

Natasha was exhausted when it was done, and she had only stood by the wall and watched. She walked with the gurney to the post-op recovery room, and pulled a chair next to the bed to wait.

Thor was first to come in, blue eyes widening in dismay at the sight of his brother flat on his back in the bed. Pallid and still, Loki was attached to an IV and the heart monitor, and a nasal cannula to assist his shallow breathing. His hands were above the sheet: the right one wrapped around the wrist brace but his fingertips left open, while the left hand was immobilized from finger to elbow. He at least looked peaceful, even if she knew that was an illusion of the anaesthetic.

Thor checked his step on the threshold before coming to Loki's side to look on him with distraught eyes. "He still looks so... fragile," he murmured.

She checked the door was closed and said in a low voice, "Thor, now that we're alone I can talk to you. He's stable but not out of danger; the doctor said the infection is still a problem. He can't heal himself, not as you did. But I saw those trolls heal him before. Do you think we could bring one to him to help?"

Thor considered that and shook his head. "No. They will not come. Perhaps we could bring him to them, but I doubt their strength would suffice. Loki will know for certain when he rouses." He looked at his hand, folding his fingers as if around the handle of his hammer, but he'd left it outside the room somewhere. "I do not understand why I should be granted mine back, and he has not."

"Papi said he had to do it himself; that he could only free his powers with love," she answered. "But if that's the only key that fits in the lock, I doubt being tortured again is going to help him find it." He was going to have a hard enough time finding _himself_ after this, how would he find love? Not true love, at least. But perhaps... He liked her, and he would be grateful to her for the rescue. She could work with those feelings for her and grow them into love, enough to free his powers. The trolls had made sure _she_ knew he was capable of love, and that must have had a purpose. She owed him for letting him get captured.

Thor smoothed the hair back from Loki's face. "We will help him. Now that I know the truth, he cannot hide behind a mask that all is well, as he did before."

"No. Nor should he. I'm sure he feels safer with you near," she murmured, and he took her words as the consolation she meant. He needed to be strong when Loki was so weak, and if there were more enemies out there, Loki would need protection.

Clint and Tony were still around, too, watching the hospital, and unless she missed her guess, Clint was probably recruiting the twins into SHIELD, because picking up strays was what he did.

While Thor was present and guarding, she left to find some food and rest.

* * *

... tbc...


	16. Waking

He didn't want to wake. The darkness was comforting and soft, and he knew the light meant pain. He didn't want to go there, didn't want to find he was still in that nightmare, didn't want to know that his dreams of Thor and Natalya were lies- but his wants had ceased factoring into what happened to him long ago, so it was not a surprise when the darkness seemed to shred and turn bright.

The noise was different. New. There was electric beeping and humming and a strange hissing that was either a large snake or maybe Svafnir was snoring.

No, he was not in the dragon's lair. His right hand touched something cloth and cushion beneath him, not the bare metal of the table. That was different. The fingers of his left hand were immobilized as was his wrist of the right, which was also new. Trying to move his fingers shot blades of pain up his arm into his shoulder, which was not new.

He made a sound, a bit of a gasp, and he heard a familiar feminine voice. "Loki!"

He opened his eyes, which was a far more difficult process than he remembered, since his eyelids felt too heavy. His vision was blurry until he blinked several times, and Natalya's face came into focus. She was so beautiful, and those eyes gleamed with such bright intelligence. If he'd ever thought mortals could never be smarter than Aesir, she was the counter-proof.

Rather belatedly he realized she'd used his true name and opened his mouth to correct her, but his lips were so dry they would barely part. The interior of his mouth felt stuffed with fur. Only an inelegant croaking sound emerged, and her lips curled up in a smile.

"It's all right," she reassured him. "You were in surgery and you're drugged to ease the pain. But you're safe. Your brother's here. He'll be back in a few minutes." She picked up a cup and a little spoon. "I'm not allowed to give you water yet, but they said you can have a few of these to ease the dry mouth." Carefully she slipped a few shards of ice between his lips.

They were the most wonderful thing he'd ever tasted, having not had anything in his mouth except that gag for however long it had been. Once his mouth felt more normal he tried speaking again, "Natalya."

"Yes. I'm sorry we couldn't get to you sooner, but I hope you know I was trying to find you the instant they took you," she told him. "And I wasn't going to stop until I found you."

That... seemed unlikely. He'd been abandoned, again. Left alone to suffer. He hadn't dared hope that she was still alive, and who else would have known he was taken?

Her fingers touched his shoulder, smoothing the thin cotton. The gesture showed him he was wearing something again. That was pleasant, both the touch and the shirt. "It's true," she insisted, not raising her voice. "I should have acted sooner. I should never have let them take you, at all."

He shook his head in denial, but the motion made him light-headed. "Not your fault." His voice was hoarse, and it seemed hard to form the right words. He wasn't sure what language he was speaking in, but she seemed to understand.

She didn't believe him either. "We'll discuss it later. Don't worry about it right now, concentrate on getting better."

He was tired, and sleep was beckoning him back but he wanted to correct what she'd said earlier. "Lukas." She raised her brows and frowned at him, not understanding. "Better," he told her, struggling a bit to get the words out, as they slurred, "on Midgard. Lukas."

"All right, Lukas," she replied. "Go back to sleep. Your enemies are dead, and you can take as long as you need to recover. You're safe."

It was good to know they were dead, and he let himself believe he was safe. As he closed his eyes, he was glad he'd managed to tell her to use Lukas. Loki was of Asgard, and when he was Loki he wasn't always who he should be. Or maybe he became who he was supposed to be by fate and prophecy, but not who he wanted to be. Loki was frozen rage and wanting what wasn't his. Loki was a curse and a burden and truths he'd rather not know.

But Lukas was different. Lukas was of Midgard, and he could be someone better. Lukas was a father, and a protector. He'd much rather be Lukas, the Ice Demon, than Loki, abandoned god of destruction and horror and death.

The throbbing in his midsection was a reminder he was not either at the moment, but that didn't matter. He'd rather be Luke Rendell, ordinary mortal of Arendelle, before he wanted to be Loki again.

* * *

Lukas fell back asleep, and Natasha stayed at his bedside to keep watch. He knew he was free and safe, which was a relief that he believed the truth. Now it was up to his friends to keep him that way, though so far it seemed that any remnant of Hydra missed by the cruise missile had fled the area. The other residents of the town seemed shocked by the action, but she had heard whispers of relief that Strucker was gone. He had not been an especially welcome resident, it seemed. Even his former supporters in the Sokovian government had claimed afterward that the airstrike had been with their cooperation to remove a criminal organization. But she was wary as word spread about the Ice Demon lying helpless in a hospital bed there might be another attempt on him.

She looked toward the door at the sounds in the hall, and had a hand on her sidearm, until she recognized Doctor Maximova, who entered, leaving her two children hovering outside. The doctor examined Lukas' chart and nodded. "Better. He responds well to the antibiotics."

Natasha gestured the twins to come in, and hesitantly they moved up to Lukas' side. They now knew who he was – not only had Thor's big return impressed them, but they had also heard of the Ice Demon, having watched the movie about him.

Wanda stared into his sleeping face intently. "He hurts," she murmured. "There is ice, and a wall. And so much pain..."

The doctor laid a hand on her shoulder. "Wanda. Not so deep."

Wanda blinked and shuddered, and stepped back from the side of the bed with a gasp.

Natasha asked, "What was that?"

"Nothing," she answered, with an uneasy glance at Lukas' face. "I- I feel things, sometimes. I feel..." She cocked her head to one side, moving closer again and reaching out her fingers toward him as if drawn to him. Natasha eyed those fingers, prepared to grab her arm, but Wanda didn't touch him. "He feels … familiar. Easy to connect."

"Wanda," Pietro cautioned. "He is not from this world."

She shrugged off his cautionary hand. "He belongs to this world, and this world belongs to him, I know that. His blood is something different, but his heart? It is here." Natasha was intrigued by what Wanda was saying. Now that she knew magic was real, she couldn't discount the possibility that Wanda had some actual psychic ability.

Wanda turned to Pietro and declared, "We should accept Mister Barton's offer, Pietro. It's important."

"To go to SHIELD?" Pietro asked, frowning in doubt.

"To follow him." She nodded toward Lukas. "The Winter Angel. There is something..." she trailed off unable to explain, and finished, "I think we must do this; learn and do good in the world."

Magda gathered her children and kissed them both. "I am proud of you, children. You rescued this one, and together no one can stop you."

 _Clint Barton recruits more strays. Nick's going to have a breakdown_ , Natasha thought in amusement, but aloud she said only, "We'll be glad to have you."

When they were gone, Natasha looked at Lukas who had slept through the whole discussion and shook her head, wondering what he would think of inspiring a pair of Sokovian siblings to join SHIELD.

* * *

Thor was disappointed that he'd missed Loki's first awakening, but much less so, when he was on hand for the second.

His sleep turned restless, and when his eyes opened they saw nothing as it was, only his nightmare. He struggled, getting his arm tangled into the tubes and the intravenous drip line, crying out. Thor had to hold him down to keep him from damaging the repairs the doctor had so carefully put in. "Loki! Loki, stop!" he pleaded, but went unheard, when being restrained threw Loki into a blind panic, lost in the nightmarish recesses of memory. He shook with violent tremors and desperate breaths, until a doctor injected him with something that put him to sleep.

Thor didn't like it, but agreed that Loki needed a chance to heal and not damage himself further. But restraints were out of the question, so they restored the IV more securely, with a medicine to manage his pain and a light sedation to keep him calm.

It worked so he didn't have another attack when he woke again. Thor was pleased when Loki opened his eyes with tired awareness, and he recognized Thor with a faint smile. Thor couldn't hold his hand, but patted his shoulder gently. "It is good to see you awake, brother."

A frown gathered between his brows as he looked at Thor. "You... have your armor."

Thor glanced down at the blue and silver of his usual Asgardian armor, and felt sick with guilt. He shouldn't be wearing it where Loki could see. It was such an obvious, pointed reminder that Thor had his powers back and Loki did not. And of course Loki noticed immediately. "Yes. And Mjolnir as well," Thor admitted.

Loki was too weak to hide his reaction, eyes lowering and lip quivering, brows drawing together in distress and hurt. "I came to your aid," Thor told him, trying to imply he'd gotten his powers back for the purpose of helping Loki. It wasn't true, but perhaps it might ease the sting.

"You wouldn't have needed to, if I had my own," he retorted, bitterness lacing his words, turning his face from Thor and closing his eyes.

Thor pressed his shoulder and smoothed back the hair at the side of his head. "I... would take all of this from you, if I could," Thor promised.

Loki kept his head turned away long enough Thor wondered if he'd slipped back to sleep, but when he turned back, he was still awake. "Where have you been?" he asked.

Thor winced, hearing the accusation. "A village in America, called Puente Antiguo. It is where the Bifrost energy discharges to Midgard, and the mortals have discovered it. I left the place as soon as I learned you had been taken. You missed the battle to free you. We were few and the enemy many, and the mortals were impressively bold."

Loki seemed disinterested in that report, asking, "And now what?"

Thor didn't answer right away, his eye catching on Loki's right arm moving back and forth. That was the wrist that had been punctured, and it was also the arm that held the intravenous needle. Loki was rubbing that arm against the bedsheet, perhaps in a return of his habit of rubbing his wrists. No, Thor realized, he was trying to dislodge the intravenous drip, but it was too firmly taped in for him to yank it out.

He didn't seem aware that he was doing it, either, but kept moving his lower arm in restless little motions, despite whatever pain the movement was causing him.

"Now that you're on your way to recovery," Thor said, wishing his voice didn't sound so falsely cheerful, "Natasha is concerned that we should move you to a more secure location."

"Someplace more pleasant than this dingy hospital," she added from the doorway, and Thor turned, surprised that she had been able to get that far without his notice. She went to the other side of the bed. "How are you feeling?"

Loki started to smile to see her, pleased she was there, but that was the last honest reaction, as he answered, "Better. But you can tell them to stop the drugs," he tilted his head at the IV. "Take it out. I feel fine."

"Sure you do." she agreed, enough of a tease in her voice to make it clear she believed not a word. Her tone gentled, and she smoothed the sheet and blanket on the bed beside his hand and lightly touched her fingers to his arm. "You will be fine, but you're not now. I promise we'll take the drip out as soon as we can, I know it's a reminder, but until you can eat, it has to stay in."

His lips pressed together in pouty refusal, but he didn't object. He seemed too subdued for the problem to hold his attention long enough to solve the puzzle of how to remove it when the fingers of his left hand were bound and useless. But Thor knew he was going to try again, when he could.

"Is there a way to sit up?" Loki asked. "I tire of lying down."

"Of course." Thor grabbed the bed controller, and after a mistaken attempt that lifted the foot of the bed, he lifted the head. At Natasha's gesture he stopped at a low angle so as not to put much pressure on his wound, but enough that Loki could see the rest of the room. He saw the figure at the doorway, but when he tensed, Natasha rested a hand on his arm.

"It's okay, he's a friend. He was part of the crew to rescue you and he's standing guard for you." She waved Barton in. "Lukas, this is Clint Barton, my usual partner in SHIELD. Clint, Lukas Onsdag."

Clint smiled at him in greeting. "Good to meet you. Or really you to meet me, I guess. Good to see you awake."

"SHIELD?" Loki asked, glancing at Thor for reassurance.

"He is not part of the traitors that imprisoned you," Thor told him. "He was one of those anxious to rescue you."

"Hydra scum. They're our enemies. Taking them down is one reason SHIELD was formed in the first place," Clint declared. "I dropped as many as I could. And I'm glad to get you out. Ice Demon's pretty famous. You're the only one on the Wall of Remembrance at SHIELD Academy with a question mark. Not MIA, not killed, not alive, just a question mark. Which I always thought was kinda cool."

"Cool?" Loki repeated. "That is a good thing?"

Clint chuckled. "You're the Ice Demon, of course it's a good thing." But the humor passed and he said more seriously, "Now that you're awake, I agree with Nat. I think it's time to move."

Thor agreed, "Yes. A safer place."

"Means no SHIELD," Natasha said. "Off the grid. Private safehouse. Or we lean on Stark again and use one of his properties."

"I think he would volunteer," Thor said. Tony Stark had grumbled, but he was still in Sokovia, still helping, and Thor had no doubt he would continue to help.

"Stark?" Loki asked. "Howard Stark? Is he alive?"

Natasha explained, "No, his son, Tony. Tony Stark helped us rescue you."

"He's a better guy than I thought, but still, maybe something more homey than that monolith in Manhattan? I have a place," Clint offered. Natasha glanced at him, with sharp surprise at the words. But Clint ignored her to keep his eyes on Loki. "My house," Clint added, "with my family. It's safe, completely off the record, not connected to SHIELD in any way. You can stay there while you recover."

Loki didn't deny he needed to recover, which Thor took as a bad sign, but he looked at his hands, demurring, "I would not bring trouble on your family."

Natasha held out a hand slowly, so he could see it and laid it on his leg over the sheet. He still flinched under her touch, but relaxed when she kept her hand there lightly. "It's a beautiful place," she told him. "A farm out in the country, far from the city. When Clint first brought me there, I was- well, in worse shape than you. But it helped me, being there."

"That's one reason I love it there," Clint said. "It's my refuge. All this other stuff, the missions," he waved a hand, "I do it to protect them."

"I…" Loki started slowly, "I would not want to put them in danger."

"It's safe there," Natasha reassured him, but he shook his head sharply.

"From me. I- I'm not safe," he murmured. "I fear what I might do. Even injured, I am too strong for you to stop me."

"But I can," Thor offered. "If," Thor added to Clint politely, "you would permit me to accompany him."

"You're not going back to Asgard?" Loki asked in weary surprise.

Thor wanted to, not the least because he had demands to make of his parents why they were allowing this to continue at all. But he shook his head once and smiled at Loki. "Not while you need me." Thor sat on the bed, on Loki's other side from Natasha, making the bed creak dangerously. "You are hurt, and it grieves me I was not in time to stop them."

Loki leaned away from him, and his lips tightened as the movement shifted his wound. "It isn't your fault, Thor. Stop trying to take the responsibility for what had nothing to do with you. I'll be fine. Even humans heal."

"I'm going to call Laura and ask her about some house guests," Clint said, apparently feeling it was decided. He smiled at Loki. "It'll be all right. There's plenty of room."

Loki looked to Natasha, a bit helplessly, after Clint had left the room. "Are you sure of this?"

"I'm sure."

"Okay." He gave in, too weary to find a better objection. He was holding himself quite still, and the creases at the corners of his eyes had deepened, as if his pain had increased. Thor and Natasha's eyes met, both of them reading it.

"You should get some more rest," Natasha said. Thor reached for the medicine controller, knowing he could renew the dose of the pain relief, but Loki saw.

"No, stop. I don't need it."

"You are in pain, brother."

"Not so m-"

Thor interrupted. "I can see it. Natasha can see it. You need not pretend."

"I don't want it," he refused, a ragged edge to his voice, that he smoothed out to say more calmly, "I'm fine."

Thor set down the controller, not wanting to go against Loki's wishes, though he looked distressingly not fine. Loki grew paler the longer he sat up and his awareness dwindled as well, until Thor was about to override him and put him back to sleep, when he was being foolishly stubborn.

Tony Stark strolled in, wearing civilian clothes. "Good afternoon, everybody. Nice to see you awake, Ice Demon. You look like shit, in case no one's told you the truth."

Loki blinked up at him, too dazed to be alarmed. "Who are you?"

"You don't know me? Wow, you are from another planet. I'm Tony Stark. I hear you knew my dad? Which is, by the way, not really a plus with me. But despite that, I do want to talk to you, because he left behind some notes that said you knew some stuff, and now that we know you're alien, I want to pick your brain." When Loki leaned back and his eyes widened in fear, Stark corrected himself, "Sorry, terrible choice of words. Not literally. I just mean, I want to know all the science you know."

Loki's eyes wandered to the hanging bag of liquid and the drip mechanism, and back to Stark, and he asked as if only that moment comprehending what Natasha had told him about the Starks, "When did Howard have a son?"

"When you were pretending you were dead, I guess," Tony answered, but his jest, if jest it was, was ignored as Loki's gaze fixed on the needle and tube in his forearm, mouth tightening, and he rubbed it against the bed again.

Tony glanced at Thor. "He's kinda out of it, isn't he? But he hates that IV. And I get it, when they used one to drug him and steal his blood and who-knows-what other horrible crap. So, here, this should help. I was bored." He held up a small device in his hand. "I invented a better cartridge injector. Or, as I like to call it, the 'let's administer drugs to people terrified of needles or too stubborn to let people give them the good stuff' device."

Thor was almost as confused as Loki at the words, at first, but then he understood what Tony had brought and smiled. This would help.

Tony continued, "A little while ago, I was trying to pretend I was fine, and then Ms Superspy over there injected me with something, and even though I objected, a lot, it did help. So think of this as me passing it on." Loki stared at him, no understanding reaching him, until it was too late. Tony pressed the box-like device to his thigh, Loki flinched, but it was done. "There. Extra dose of morphine. So you stop looking like death warmed over. We've got good drugs, you should take advantage when you need them."

Loki understood nothing he had said, looking at him with blank confusion. But the tension in his jaw and around his eyes eased. He abruptly seemed aware that he'd been drugged as his eyes shot wide, but Natasha put a hand on his face, stroking his cheek. "Shhh, it's okay. You're safe. Go to sleep."

Whether it was her reassurance, or the drug and his own exhaustion making sleep inevitable, or both, his eyes finally shut. Thor lowered the bed again so Loki could lie flat and bent to kiss Loki's brow before standing. "You have my thanks, Tony Stark."

"No problem, big guy. Didn't do it for you. Or you, you two-faced imposter," he shot that at Natasha, who looked unrepentant. "But I guess for him." He looked at Loki and his brows drew together, troubled. "When I was going through stuff a few weeks ago, I saw a photo of him with my dad, and this guy looked exactly the same in 1944. Well, not exactly, he didn't look like ten miles of bad road in the picture, but he hasn't aged at all. How is that fair?"

Natasha, who had very little tolerance for his verbiage, stood up. "Thank you, Tony, for coming on this extraction. Iron Man was very helpful, and I'll be sure Director Fury knows about it. But we need to get him prepped to go back to the States."

"Are you giving me the brushoff Romanoff?" he asked, delighting in the rhyme.

"I am."

He snapped his fingers. "That's because I didn't tell you my private plane is going to be at the airfield in ninety minutes. So gather up whatever medical stuff you need for him; you can take him back to the States in that. Much more comfortable."

"We'll take the quinjet."

"Aren't we trying to do this on the downlow?" he asked. "Not on SHIELD radar?"

She pressed her lips together, as Thor answered seriously, "Yes, for his protection, and now Barton's family as well."

Tony spread his hands as if the answer the self-explanatory. "There you go. You can keep this." He left the injector on the bed. "I'm making my own way back, but tell the Winter Devil he's invited to the house in Malibu, or Stark Tower, anywhere, when he's better. I really do want to pick his brain. Metaphorically." At the door he turned back, "Oh, the plane flies with my AI, JARVIS, so just talk to him like a person. Better security that way." He waved a hand at them and was gone.

Thor's eyes met Natasha's, and she gave a shrug of resignation and a bit of a smile. "He does have his moments."

Thor glanced at Loki, pleased that they would soon be on their way to a safer and more comfortable place. "Let us ready for departure."

* * *

... tbc...


	17. To a home

During the journey, she and Clint traded off to tend to the cockpit. Or rather, Natasha went in there to nap at JARVIS' suggestion, since the AI had control of the plane. At first it was an odd experience, but it was little different from how much the autopilot did on commercial flights, and JARVIS was a better conversationalist. The rest of the time, she sat with Thor in the plush chairs to watch over Lukas. His cot and IV had been strapped to the wet bar against the left bulkhead, and a safety belt lay across his chest. The meds kept him in a fitful doze for most of the journey, where he would stir for every odd noise or bump. When he was alert, Thor gave him sips of water with a straw.

Once, when a bit of turbulence rattled the jet and he jerked awake, his eyes darted to place himself. She reached slowly so he could see her hand coming to rest on his shoulder; he still tensed at the touch. She smoothed the thin fabric of the cotton shirt lightly, trying to ground him in the present, and when she had Lukas' attention, and he recognized her, she teased, voice light, "You still hate airplanes, don't you?"

Lukas muttered, "Primitive flying boxes. Combustion and air density. Ridiculous."

She said, "I'm sure Tony would love it if you help him build a better plane."

"Howard was supposed to build a car that flies. What happened to that?" he asked, but didn't let anyone answer, muttering in irritation, "Birds laugh at these stupid contraptions. And horseless carriages still don't drive themselves. What have you all been _doing_ for the last six decades?"

She smiled, amused by the disgust, and Thor's glance at her was grateful that she'd distracted Loki for a little while.

As the coast approached and they had to drop altitude to avoid the air traffic control system, she joined Clint in the cockpit and listened as Clint discussed where to land with JARVIS. Clint was sitting stiffly and had a weird note in his voice, bothered that a computer was flying the plane.

But he powered through and finally nodded, letting out a breath. "Okay, we've got room on the outer road. Should I take the controls?"

" _I believe I can be more accurate, Mister Barton_ ," JARVIS answered which was the most polite "hell no" Natasha had ever heard. " _All systems are operating well. I have acquired real-time satellite imagery to confirm there are no vehicles or other obstacles. We are on target._ "

Clint flexed his hands and put them in his lap, clutched together. Natasha remembered Lukas's fear of flying and smiled. At least he was drugged for this one.

The plane landed on the two-lane road smoothly and continued to taxi, rolling smoothly down the road and slowing as it headed for the entrance to the Barton farm. It was amusing that the small plane managed to turn precisely onto their drive, bumping over the cattle guard and headed up the main drive toward the house.

Clint sat tense through the whole operation, occasionally exclaiming "Watch out!" and "you killed the mailbox!" and once covering his face with his hands, fearing the plane was going to go straight into the barn. But as the plane trundled to a stop at the edge of the parking area, he straightened and looked through the window, grin splitting his face. "Wow, would you look at that? Neat as a pin. JARVIS, you're amazing!"

" _You are most kind, sir._ "

Natasha stood up. "C'mon, Clint, let's get unloaded. The plane shouldn't stay here in the open."

Thor wrenched the door open, and pushed the few stairs to the ground, pausing to look at the two-story sprawling house. Natasha paused next to him, to breathe in the fresh air and let the quiet settle over her skin. It was as much a home to her as any place she'd known, and it was good to be back.

Thor asked, "This is your abode, Barton?"

"Yep," Clint said from behind them and waved at Cooper in his bedroom window.

"You are generous to share it with us." Thor nodded his head to him in formal gratitude.

Clint shrugged. "Hey, it's not every day I get to have the Ice Demon as a houseguest, y'know? If I can't help him, what's the point? C'mon, let's get the cot unstrapped and get him inside."

Loki woke as they jarred the cot, eyes flicking open and naked fear in them before the drugs muffled it. He asked a drowsy question in another language, before recognizing Natasha at his side and switching to Russian. "Where are we?"

"We're at Clint's house," Natasha told him in English. "You're safe."

Thor told him, "Clint Barton and I will lift you within the house on the cot. It will be easier than if I carry you alone."

Loki plucked at the blanket with his good hand and moved his legs to the side as if he was planning to sit up. "I can do it. I feel better..."

"Loki, no!" Thor exclaimed, but Natasha held up a hand. Loki might as well find out now that he wasn't ready.

He made it up on one elbow before blowing out a ragged breath and collapsing back down, ashen pale and panting, with his hand across the thick swath of bandages over his wound, as if to try to keep it all in there. He stared at the roof, muscles tense and body rigid, taking deliberately shallow breaths to keep control against the flaring pain.

"Okay, now that you've learned a valuable lesson in how much it hurts to move, even with morphine making you feel invincible," Natasha said dryly. "Lie still."

"Okay, fine," he muttered closing his eyes. The sullen tone made her smile, but at least he was giving in.

As Clint and Thor picked up the cot to maneuver it out of the plane, she gathered the medical supplies, telling JARVIS they still needed to come back for their weapons and other gear so the plane wouldn't leave yet.

The two men carried the cot up the steps to the front door as it opened. Natasha went up first to give Laura a hug. Laura smiled her welcome and kissed Clint, but had most of her concentration on her guest, moving to his side so Lukas could see her more easily as they came in the front hall.

"Welcome," she said, "I'm Laura, Clint's wife. I'm also a nurse, so I can help you while you're recovering. And just so you know, it looks like we're a thousand miles from civilization, but there's a good hospital only fifteen minutes away."

"Laura—" Clint complained, but fell quiet when she leveled a look at him.

"Hon, I realize you want to keep him off the grid, but if something happens that I can't treat, we'll have to risk it." She turned her eyes back to Lukas, sympathetic smile on her lips. "You look done in. I got the front bedroom ready this morning, though I didn't realize there was someone besides Nat coming, too." She looked up at Thor. "Laura."

"Thor," he said, nodding to her politely. "I thank you for allowing my brother and I to stay beneath your roof, Laura. He was most sorely injured, and I hope your home will help him recover."

She smiled. "Well, I hope that, too. Welcome. Come in, make yourself at home."

Thor and Clint carried the stretcher down the hall, and then, the kids arrived, Cooper's feet pounding down the stairs, and Lila's piping voice excitedly calling for Auntie Nat.

It took some time to greet and introduce everyone. Clint had to be stern with the kids who were eager to look behind the closed door to the front bedroom. "You need to let him sleep, Lila."

"He's taking a nap? Like me?" she asked.

"Yes, like you, button. Because bad guys hurt him, and he was in a hospital this morning."

Her little face grew wide eyed with empathetic distress. "Oh." And she looked around wanting to do something for him, and her eyes settled on an old birthday card Cooper had made for Laura. "Do you think he wants a picture? I could draw a flower?"

All the adults exchanged looks and Laura smoothed her daughter's hair. "Yes, sweetie, I think that's a great idea. You can draw him a picture. Of whatever you want."

Cooper went with Clint to the jet to finish unloading their gear, and Lila sat the dining table drawing a picture with her crayons. Natasha, Laura and Thor went to the veranda to talk.

"So what the hell did they do?" Laura asked. "Clint was a bit sparse with the details."

Thor didn't want to answer, so Natasha did, listing his injuries and what had been done to treat them.

After, Laura shook her head, pressing her lips together in disgust. "Torture. So terrible what humans will do."

"It is not the first time," Thor added heavily. "He was hurt during his previous captivity during the war."

"Because he's the Ice Demon," Laura said. It wasn't quite a question, but her tone was full of dry incredulity. Her eyes met Natasha's seeking confirmation of this identification.

"It's true," Natasha said. "Same person." She lifted her brows and smiled. "Just wait 'til Phil figures out where he is." Coulson knew about the Bartons – he was the only one besides Fury who did – but he would first assume they were hiding on one of Stark's properties since Stark's plane had taken them somewhere.

Thor nodded. "He admires Captain America and those he associated with."

"That he does," Laura agreed. "Well, the Ice Demon must have some great stories. We'll have to set up a YouTube channel for him."

When Thor showed understanding, Natasha was surprised. "You know what that is?"

"Darcy Lewis, Jane's assistant, showed me the YouTube," he answered. "It is a great source of humorous animal antics. If I might borrow the computer later, I think Loki would enjoy them also."

Natasha shook her head, ruefully amused that Thor had already been exposed to that part of modern Earth. "At least we know when aliens invade they'll end up addicted to cat videos, too."

* * *

Loki stirred, aware he was somewhere soft and warm. It was not the plane, definitely not his captivity, but it took a moment to remember he'd agreed to go to Clint Barton's family home. He remembered meeting Barton's wife, but nothing after that. Apparently Thor had lifted him into the bed.

He opened his eyes, and found a little girl watching him, very seriously, from beside the bed. When she saw he was awake, she said, "Hi."

His voice was difficult to find at first, as he replied in a whisper, "Hi."

"I take naps, too," she announced, once she saw he was awake. Then she held up a piece of paper. "I drawed you a flower. To get better." She tried to give it to him, until she saw how his hands were bandaged and bound. A little frown gathered on her forehead of worry and distress. "Oh. Here. See?" She held it out. It was supposed to be a flower? Drawn simply, using bold colors with a smell of wax to them, it nonetheless made him smile at the gift.

"I like flowers," he told her, scouring his memory for her name, when he knew Barton had mentioned it. "Lila. Could you put it on the table so I can see it?"

He gestured toward the bedside table, hand shaking. He tried to stop it, ashamed of the weakness, but his hand dropped to the surface of the bed, hissing a breath at the shooting pain at the impact. Lila propped her picture against the lamp, and regarded him with a very somber look. He tensed, expecting a question about how he could be so weak. Or how he had been stupid enough to get caught. Or why he had come here putting her in danger.

Instead she put her tiny hand atop his fingers where there were no bandages, clearly meaning to be comforting. "Daddy said bad guys hurt you."

He hesitated, wondering if he should tell her, but since Barton had already said as much, he agreed, "Yes. Bad men hurt me."

"And my daddy helped you. Cuz that's what Daddy does. He has to go away sometimes, but he's helping people. That's what good daddies do."

Loki looked at his hands and thought of help that had not come from someone else's father. "Yes," Loki said, voice catching. "They should."

"Mama will help you get better," Lila said with staunch faith. Loki remembered that same faith in his own childhood, and thought a bitter prayer that Lila's faith would stay pure and unbroken. "When I was sick when I was little she let me watch Dora all day. Maybe you can watch Dora all day, too! And I can watch with you and it'll be fun. Do you like tea parties? We can have a tea party." Her enthusiasm suddenly dwindled away to hesitancy, and she looked down. "If you want? Cooper says I bug him. He's too big to play tea party. He says it's for babies."

Loki remembered more than one occasion, tagging along behind Thor who was 'too big' to play the 'baby' games that Loki had still liked to play. He smiled at her. "You'll have to show me how to play tea party. I don't know it."

"You wanna play with me?"

Maybe if he'd been well he might have resisted the big eyes and quivering lip, but he had no defenses at all, even recognizing the ploy. "Yes, of course. But not today. I'm still very tired."

"That's okay. Do you want to color? I'll get crayons." She raced out of the room like a summer storm, leaving Loki amused behind her.

Attempting to sit up to color made him nearly vomit from the pain in his middle, but Lila was undeterred, offering to do it for him and asking what colors he wanted for the simplified image of a gowned woman – "That's Belle, silly!" - drawn with heavy black lines.

He drifted in the painless haze, content to watch Lila with her head bent over her book, her little tongue sticking out in concentration. When sleep came, it was comfortable and dreamless.

* * *

tbc...


	18. Rest

Scheduling note: I'm in the process of moving house, so next week's update might be delayed. If so, it'll only be a week. Thank you all for following along!

* * *

 **CHAPTER 18**

 **Rest**

.

Thor found that he rather enjoyed the Barton abode, and if not for Loki sleeping in such long stretches he might have invented the Lokisleep for himself, Thor would have appreciated the time even more. Laura seemed unconcerned by his exhaustion, pleased that he was getting rest and was healing well.

The second morning after their arrival, however, there was a clatter from the front bedroom where Loki slept. Laura was fleet-footed, running ahead to her patient. "What the _hell_ are you doing?" she demanded.

Thor followed in a rush, to see Loki slumped against the door frame, barely on his feet. He was still attached to the IV apparatus, which lay on the floor, having fallen or been knocked over.

"Loki!" Thor slung an arm around his back to support him, finding he was trembling. "Why are you out of bed?"

"Toilet," he explained breathlessly. He had one arm pressed against his middle, and the other he tugged at the IV line. "Take it out- I can't – just take it out."

Laura hesitated, licking her lips uncertainly. But the ragged edge in his voice or something in his face convinced her, and she nodded. "All right, I will. Thor, hold him up." Thor did so, an arm carefully around Loki's back while she took some items out of the drawer where she kept medical supplies and came back. Holding his arm, she removed the port from his skin and Thor let out a little breath of dismay, seeing how bruised the area was. Even something meant to help him was also hurting him. Laura put a wad of cotton over the small puncture wound and a small bandage over that to hold it in place. "There. Better?"

He nodded and, breaths easing, relaxed into Thor's grip.

"Good. I put the bell on the table, so you could get someone to help you. You're lucky you didn't fall. So hit it next time please. But I'm glad you're strong enough to get out of bed on your own." She looked to Thor and ordered, "Take him to the bathroom, and then out to the living room couch. I'll clean up here."

In the bathroom, Loki held himself tense and his face turned away as if he was pretending he was somewhere else, hating every single second that Thor had to help him. So Thor said nothing, just helped him when necessary but letting him do for himself with his better hand as much as he could.

He was pale and sweating with the effort by the time Thor spread the alcohol gel on Loki's fingertips in place of trying to wash his hand. He was gentle, knowing too much movement of his fingers strained the wound in his wrist, and even so Loki's jaw clenched and the crease on his brow tightened. Once they were done, Thor smiled at him. "You are stronger, Loki. It is good to see."

That was a lie, because looking looking at Loki only made Thor aware of his weakness. He was propping a hip against the cabinet of the sink, and he wore the simple white cotton shirt and soft grey pajama bottoms from the package left for him by Stark for him on the plane. The clothing was untailored, hanging loosely over his swathe of bandages in his middle and making him look thin and young, as if erasing his centuries of life back to childhood. But when Thor looked at Loki's face in the reflection he had the opposite problem, because that was no youth's face. There were creases at the corners of his eyes, aging him prematurely.

But Loki looked at neither his face or his clothes beyond a flattening of his lips in distaste, holding up his bandaged hands to inspect them. "It heals so slowly," he complained.

"Only a small amount of time has passed. You will heal, but let me and the mortals help you. You might have undone all the healing you've managed, if you'd fallen."

Loki groaned. "I know. I just... I wanted to do it myself."

Thor caressed the back of his head, smoothing the hair that had gotten mussed on the pillow. "There is no shame in letting anyone help you."

Proving he'd guessed right, Loki's jaw clenched and he murmured, "You sure of that? Would you not feel you are a burden?"

"Perhaps I would," Thor answered honestly, "but does that make it true? They help not out of obligation, because they have none to us, but because they wish to. Because they are good people who want to do good things for others, not because they want to _judge_ you. Now come, I am bid to bring you to the main room. You can be more sociable."

He put Loki's arm across his shoulders, and his own arm around Loki's back, and together they left the restroom. After a few steps, Loki sagged against him, walking too difficult. Without pause, Thor bent to scoop up his knees to lift him off his feet.

"Thor..." he protested.

"Let me help," Thor requested, reminding him of the conversation they'd just had, and Loki accepted with a nod. Thor tipped his head to touch it to Loki's and carried him to the living room. Thor had plenty of strength to give him while Loki had so little.

He set Loki down on one end of the couch, where Laura had prepared a nest of pillows for him to lean against the back of the couch, while his feet went up on a padded settee. His eyes shut as the pain from all the movement seemed to rush through him.

Laura watched this and held up the injection cartridge. "Morning dose of antibiotics and pain medicine. May I?"

Loki hesitated, as if he wanted to refuse, but given the pinched look around his  
mouth and sunken look of his eyes, he hurt too much to argue. He gave a little nod and tensed as Laura administered the medicine into his thigh.

He relaxed afterward and tried a smile at her. "I did feel better earlier."

"Good. Just don't push too hard," she advised. "While you're up, let me check your bandages and vitals, then we'll get some food in you." She did so, her touch kind, as she did what the people in the hospital had, telling him what she was doing each time. "Temperature down, so I think the infection is on its way out. You're doing nicely. You're going to need to lie flat again in a bit, but for now, it should be more interesting out here than the bedroom. Lila's going to watch her show, and I figure that's about your speed, too."

Lila had come in to watch and, hearing her name, climbed on the couch next to him. "Your hands look so owie," she told him. "Mama, can you kiss it and make it better, like you do for me?"

She smiled at her daughter. "I think it only works mother to child, sweetie."

Loki's expression went blank and he looked at his left hand, immobilized up to his elbow. Thor knew he had to be thinking about Frigga, perhaps wishing she were with him, or wondering why she hadn't done more to help. Those were questions Thor had as well, but he would have to wait on answers until he and Loki returned. But Loki could not return until his powers were restored, and Thor would not leave him.

Lila stuck out her lower lip at her mother's answer and bent down to kiss the back of Loki's hand herself. "There. Better?" She looked up at him, hopefully.

Lok's face softened when he looked at her. "You must be magic, Lila. My hand feels much better. Thank you."

Laura set a small cup with a straw and a cheerful animal print on the arm rest. "Your breakfast is a chocolate smoothie. No solid food yet, but we need to pack some calories and nutrition into you. Take as long as you need, but try to drink it all." Her voice dropped in warning. "If you don't eat, we'll have to go back to an IV."

He nodded his understanding and carefully clasped the cup between his wrapped hands to lift it up high enough to drink. But his hands shook and threatened to drop it. Thor was about to take it from him, but Lila squirmed closer. "I can help," she offered and grabbed it away. "It's just like giving Blue Bear his bottle."

Thor had already been introduced to Blue Bear – a stuffed animal that Lila imagined as a companion – and he stiffened at the comparison of his injured brother to a toy. He expected Loki to reject her offer, but instead Loki smiled at her. It was a weary smile, but genuine, and he didn't object when she held the cup for him to drink from the straw.

Perhaps this place would be good for Loki in ways beyond the obvious safety to heal.

* * *

Loki roused, still held in the drowsy, painless darkness, but with awareness creeping in.

A female voice was saying, "But as we know now, the Ice Demon didn't die in the crash."

He felt a chill at that. They were talking about the Ice Demon. They were going to hurt him again. They were going to drain his blood and touch him again.

The darkness no longer seemed comforting, and he hurt now, his middle especially. Deeper than the cut on the outside of his skin, he ached within, damaged beyond the humans' ability to do anything to fix, beyond close the outer wound and hope for the best.

They were going to hurt him again. Why else would someone be talking about the Ice Demon? Why bring up his power, unless they were going to try to steal it again?

But he knew he couldn't move; he knew trying would only hurt more. He couldn't tell them to stop, he was gagged and restrained and he could feel that hard table beneath him again...

And though he told himself to be silent so they wouldn't know he was awake, a sound came out of his throat, a whine like a puppy, that he couldn't silence.

"Lukas?" the woman interrupted herself to ask and he felt a hand on his cheek. He jerked his head away from the touch, eyes flying open.

At first all he saw was the light of the laboratory, blinding and white, but, blinking, the brightness faded to a softer yellow light and the ceiling of the Barton house. Turning his head he saw the warmth of the Barton family's artwork on the flower-patterned walls and placed himself on the couch of the living area. He saw Natasha, and realized he'd heard her voice. She was close enough to him she must be kneeling on the floor beside the couch.

Her eyes met his. "You back with me?" she asked in a quiet voice.

"Fine," he answered, which would have been more convincing if his breathing wasn't too fast and his heart wasn't thudding so hard he felt it down to his toes and it echoed in his wounds.

Her fingers were stroking his upper arm, and the repetitive feel of it was calming. He inhaled deeply, trying to get himself under control. "I heard something about the Ice Demon..."

"I'm sorry," she apologized. "Cooper came in, asking about you. Cooper." She beckoned Cooper to join her, close to the couch. The boy stared at Loki. He was holding what looked like a magazine against his chest.

"Cooper, this is Lukas Onsdag, who is the true Ice Demon."

Loki shook his head. " _Was_. I was the Ice Demon." He held out his hands and regarded the bandages. "I needed only a day to heal the damage then."

"You're still him, Lukas," Natasha reminded him. "Cooper, show him what Uncle Phil gave you."

Cooper held it out, saying haltingly, "I-I got this. It's about, uh, the Ice Demon."

"About me?" Loki asked and frowned at the rather lurid cover. It was a painting of a black-haired man, wearing a long black coat over a tight-fitting grey bodysuit on a muscular body. He appeared to be shooting ice daggers out of his hand, and was standing in a dramatic if mostly useless pose. The title of the book read _The Ice Demon: Shadow Hunter_.

 _The Ice Demon_.

"What is this?" Loki demanded.

"It's a graphic novel." When Loki's face gave away his lack of comprehension, Cooper explained, "Collection of comics." His tone suggested Loki was a moron for not knowing that.

"There's a comic book about _me_? Why?"

"He's a superhero," Cooper insisted, equally incredulous that he wouldn't be in one. But Loki, who remembered comic books as simple things made out of newsprint, was shocked by the almost photographic look of the pictures as Cooper flipped the pages for him.

Natasha explained, "After you and Rogers were believed dead, the legend grew. There was a radio program and comic books of fictionalized adventures of Captain America, and the Howling Commandos featured, of course. And then, in the late 1980's, the comics brought Captain America to the modern era to be a superhero. About ten years ago, in a famous story, he went to Arendelle and found the Ice Demon asleep inside a castle of ice. They've had adventures ever since. This book is part of a new series," she touched Cooper's book, "about the Ice Demon's solo adventures. I haven't read them-"

"They're good!" Cooper interjected, enthusiastically. "He's really awesome. So that's why I, uh, asked about you," he added with dwindling boldness, until he ended up looking at the floor.

"Unfortunately I lack... awesome." He remembered what felt like a few million years ago in Arendelle, how casually Helga had predicted the future of the Ice Demon being merely a man. "It must be disappointing to see me like this, after all that excitement."

"No." Cooper's head came up and he looked Loki in the face. "No. Because you're real. I know these are fake." He shook the book so the pages flapped. "They're just stories. But you really did know Captain America, and you really did have powers, right?"

"I did." He glanced at the cover again. "I could've done that." Not that he would have since he didn't care to use his ice powers, since they reminded him of both Elsa and his blood. "But not today." He started to lift his broken hand to point but Natasha rested her fingers lightly on his arm, preventing him.

"Try not to move it," she coaxed him. "Lie still for now."

"Maybe you'll get it back?" Cooper suggested with that child's hopefulness that Loki couldn't help but share, at least for that moment.

"Maybe. I hope so."

Clint called Cooper outside, and the boy raced from the room with barely a 'bye'. Loki listened but could hear no one else around, which was odd when he expected at least Thor to be near him. "Where is everyone?" he asked.

"Lila is taking her afternoon nap, and Laura took Thor grocery shopping."

Loki tried to imagine Thor at one of these overly bright, large supermarkets of modern Midgard. Absurd. "Did he change clothes first?"

Natasha chuckled. "Yes, we convinced him armor and a cape lacked some subtlety."

"Good. Stealth is not usually one of his talents, and I don't know if he understands how quickly word would spread if he's spotted." Someone could see Thor, put his photo on the internet, and it wouldn't be that hard to search the surrounding area for the rest of them, find the Barton farm and Loki there, too. His heart thumped in his chest, echoing in his wounds with quick rhythm.

Natasha noticed. "Hey, they'll be careful," she reassured him. Her fingers combed through his hair. "Clint and I are good at this, Lukas. And Laura knows what to do."

"I believe you. But I..." His voice trailed off, when he didn't know how to put words to what was wrong with him.

"You feel helpless," she suggested gently. "Dependent. It won't last forever. You _are_ healing."

His middle was a dull ache that flared if he merely _considered_ sitting upright, and he lifted his left hand to look at it, shaking his head. "I don't think I'll get full use again; it's too damaged. And I hate that it will remind me, forever."

She nodded understanding. She laid her hand against his cheek and angled his face so his eyes would meet hers. "Promise me one thing, Lukas. Hate them, if you must, for doing it to you, but not yourself. You did nothing wrong."

Her jerked his head to dislodge her hand. "Why?" he demanded abruptly. "Is this some mission? Some other orders from your superiors to keep close to me? Guilt because you feel you failed when they took me? I don't understand."

She regarded him. "Friendship is so strange to you?"

"Is this friendship?" he asked. "I lied to you."

"I lied to _you_ ," she countered. "That doesn't mean I don't want you well. And yes," she admitted, "I made a mistake that got you hurt and I want to help you now to make up for it. But that's not all. I thought we were working toward something more...? You and me?"

Her fingers flowed down his jaw and neck, to stop in the middle of his chest, atop the thin white t-shirt he was wearing. His heart thumped harder at the touch, a reaction to the new way she was touching him- lightly, but as a caress that was not meant to be comforting. His body responded to the intent in her touch, and he wanted her hand to go lower as his eyes fell to her lips, wanting to pull them against his own. His gaze moved lower to the pale skin against the V-neck shirt that swelled with her breasts.

But the moment he felt that arousal sink in his body and that heat start to gather, he remembered:

 _Hands and fingers, and pain and pleasure wrung out of him, denial and shame, all tangled together_...

He jerked violently, the unwise motion rousing fire in his abdomen enough to pull him back to the present. Natasha had pulled her hand off him, moving so she wasn't touching him at all.

"No," he said harshly, breath still uneven. Then, because he feared she understood his rejection, he added the hasty explanation, "No. I can't. No mortals."

She leaned back to regard him, thoughts racing behind those bright eyes, and she said in a tone less familiar, "I'm sorry. I only wanted to offer some distraction or comfort."

He shook his head, catching his breath, and said more calmly, "No need to apologize. If any mortal could tempt me, it would be you." Her lips smiled at the compliment, though her eyes stayed somber and considering. Eager for a change of situation, he asked, "Could I have some water?"

"Sure." She stood up with fluid grace that he couldn't help but admire, even while he reminded himself of all the reasons it couldn't happen.

But as he sat there and closed his eyes, to try to find some quiet place in his mind away from both pain and memory, he found himself thinking about her touch.

* * *

... tbc...


	19. Restoration

NOTE: moving is complete (though I suspect unpacking may be forever!) so it's back! This one contains a moment I think you've been waiting for, so enjoy!

* * *

 **Chapter 19**

 **Restoration**

.

By the fourth day of their sojourn in the Barton home, Thor had gone to the market with Laura, assisted Clint in designing and starting to enclose the eastern veranda, and helped Loki as much as Loki would let him. He'd talked with his hosts and with Natasha, entertained the children by making it rain in the southern field, entertained himself and Loki with animal videos, and made himself familiar with the data retrieval system, learning more about the Ice Demon than Loki had ever told him. He'd spoken with Jane by telephone, so she would know Loki was safe, if not well, but he'd had to be honest that he needed to stay with his brother, not go back to her. So he'd kept busy, and it was a pleasant visit, except for Loki's continued pain and weakness. It was hard to see him so gaunt with the lines deepening on his face, as he fought to do simple things like sit upright and hold a spoon. He'd joined them for dinner, but Laura sent him to bed right after, since he was wan with exhaustion.

Later that evening, Thor heard a stubborn demand drift down the stairs. "I wanna say good night to Uncle Lukas," Lila said.

Clint objected, "Button, it's bed time, and he might be asleep-"

But quick footsteps clattered down the stairs and Lila appeared briefly around the corner, before she was in the hall and called back with satisfaction, "He's not!"

Thor stood up, wanting to stop her and let Loki rest. He met Clint coming down the stairs, both too slow to keep Lila from the room. Clint shrugged his helplessness. "Fine, two minutes," Clint told her. The two waited in the hall, as Lila bounded in.

"I came to tell you good night."

"Good night, Lila," Loki wished her. Thor looked in from the doorway, to see Loki was not only awake, but slouched against the head board, though the room was dark. "Sleep well."

"You should sleep, too. You look tired," she said, now giving him a critical eye eerily reminiscent of her mother. There was no doubt where it came from.

"I... tried. I find it difficult to sleep," he admitted. "My wounds bother me more in the darkness."

Thor was about to go through the open doorway and offer another dose of medicine, but Clint held out a hand to stop him. "Wait," he whispered. "He's talking to her."

Thor nodded slowly, understanding the import of it; Loki devoted himself mostly to pretense that he was better. He had yet to tell anyone he was finding it difficult to sleep. It was a bit puzzling, even hurtful, that he would talk to a child, a stranger at that, and not his own brother, but at least he was talking about it at all.

"Oh, that's bad," she was saying. "Mommy or Daddy read to me to help me sleep. Do you want me to read to you? It must be hard with your hands all wrapped like a mummy."

There was a pause as Loki considered refusing but in the end, he acceded, "Yes, I would like that, Lila. Whatever book you wish to share, I have read few of the stories of this time."

"Do you like _Star Wars_?" she asked.

"I..." he answered hesitantly, "I am not in favor of wars in general..."

She giggled. "The movies, silly." His expression made her laugh more. "You don't know what it is! How can you not know _Star Wars_? You want to watch the movie? No, Daddy won't let us start a movie this late. Tomorrow?"

Loki had no idea what she was talking about but agreed, "Yes, I believe I have no appointments tomorrow."

She laughed again. "You're so funny. I'll go find something, be right back! How about dinosaurs?" she asked, but ran out of the room before he could answer. "Daddy, I have to read him a book," she pronounced as she raced past.

Thor thought Clint might object to this, but he only shook his head and tugged at Thor to move away. "Let her read to him," he suggested. "She's eager to help, and he seems to enjoy her company."

Thor nodded slowly, thinking. "He had a mortal daughter, perhaps Lila reminds him of her."

Clint looked at him. "Had?"

"She was mortal and died many years ago." Thor remembered that day. Loki had known the instant she had passed. In the midst of battle, his illusions had shattered, and the dagger dropped from his hand. Thor had thought he'd been hit by a weapon, only to find out it was a much worse blow than that. Loki had vanished to attend her funeral alone, and returned to Asgard with bleak eyes. "He loved her deeply."

"Oh. Of course." Clint nodded and glanced in the direction of the guest room, no doubt imagining losing his own daughter. Then he turned back. "She's also not threatening, and I think he needs that right now," Clint said, and Thor had to agree with that, too, much to his dismay. Loki tensed when anyone but the children came near him.

Thor had grieved that Loki feared him, but Natasha had explained that Loki was not afraid of Thor; his body was still reacting to the knowledge that anyone coming near intended to hurt him. Having seen the end of what Loki had endured and watching how his pain still lingered, Thor wanted nothing more than to find a way to make him better, or, failing that, find those who hurt him and kill them. It would have been far more satisfying laying the castle to waste with Mjolnir, than watching it fall to rubble.

When next Thor dared the door to check on them, he had to smile. Loki and Lila were both asleep, his head fallen back against the pillows propping him up, while she was tucked against him beneath his arm, her dinosaur book still open across her legs.

Barton moved up and watched them. "Look at that, she did it." He tiptoed in and took the book, drawing the blanket up over them to let them sleep.

* * *

The peace was short-lived. After Clint had taken Lila to her own bed later and the house had fallen silent, Natasha woke to an odd noise. It was a soft, quick sound, almost mechanical in its repetition, that she couldn't identify at first. She headed into the hall, and down the stairs in the dark to hear a footstep ahead of her as the hall light was switched on. She saw Thor at the door to the guest room and he indicated the door, murmuring, "Here."

She nodded, surprised only that it had taken this long for nightmares to trouble him, and stayed to one side as Thor opened the door. The sound was more distinct then, of a rapid shallow cry. In the light from the hallway, she saw Loki's head moving on the pillow and his legs fought against the entanglement of the blankets around them. Thor went to the bedside to call out softly, "Loki. You need to wake. It is but a dream you are in, not real."

She moved inside, to the other side and reached out to pat his chest, atop the sweat-dampened t-shirt. "Lukas, wake up. You need to wake up."

His eyes popped open, as the remnant of a much-louder cry flew out from his mouth, and his whole body jerked. For a moment there was nothing but fear in his eyes, seeing only his nightmare. But the fear twisted into pain, and his right forearm pressed across his abdomen and a moan slipped out, before he choked it back. That effort seemed too much, and his panting breaths grew ragged and more desperate for air as the brief lucidity edged into panic.

"Lukas. Lukas, look at me," she requested and when he did, she held his eyes with her own, keeping her voice calm and lowering it as she spoke to draw his attention deeper. It was similar to hypnosis, and was something she'd learned as part of a seduction technique – it felt better to use it this way. "You're awake. You're awake and you're safe. It was a nightmare. You're here in the Barton house, surrounded by friends, and you're safe." In the same tone, she addressed Thor, not daring to look away from Lukas' face, "Thor, would you get the med cartridge and give him another dose. I think it wore off just at the wrong time."

Lukas tensed at the words, but she framed his face in her hands and bent nearer so all he could see was her. "Just look at me," she urged softly. "Pay no attention to anything else, right now. Just breathe, Lukas. Breathe quietly, in and out." She modeled the breaths for him, to slow the rapid breathing. "Breathe again, in and out. You're all right."

She felt when Thor leaned against the bed to reach his leg and the faint twitch he gave when he was injected, but she didn't relinquish Lukas' face until she felt the tension in his body ease and his breathing was steady again. Pulling away, she gave him a small smile. "There."

Calm enough now to realize it was still night and he must have woken them up, his gaze shifted away, lowering his eyelids. "I... Sorry. I disturbed everyone."

"No, you didn't," she shook her head. "We're the only ones up. And even if you had, they understand, Lukas."

He shook his head a little, but didn't argue. He swallowed and inhaled a deep breath. "You can both return to your rest. I am well."

"I can sit with you until you sleep?" Natasha offered.

"No, that seems ridiculous," he demurred. "I bothered you enough, Natalya. You need not nursemaid me."

But perhaps since he only mentioned Natasha by name, Thor did not seem to believe the denial applied to him. Or he knew that his brother did not want to be left alone in the room, and all denials to the contrary were merely prideful. "Shall I fetch the iPad? I was watching a video of pandas when I heard your distress," Thor said. "You should see it. It was quite charming." He hurried out, not waiting for Lukas to agree. He opened his mouth to call Thor back, but it never passed his lips.

"He means well," she told him. "And pandas are cute."

He gave in without more argument, perhaps a measure of how little he wanted to be alone.

Thor was back with the tablet and she decided to head back upstairs and reassure Clint all was well, since she was sure he was awake. "I'll leave you to it, then. Try to get some more sleep, Lukas. You need rest to heal."

She was almost to the door when Thor said, "Thank you, Natasha. For your care for my brother."

Taken by surprise, she wanted to protest, because it sounded so wrong. Black Widow shouldn't – couldn't – care for anyone. But Thor's blue eyes were earnest and yet saw deeply, and she had to admit he was right. It was better this way. She smiled, nodding her head once in acceptance, and left.

* * *

The next day, after Loki woke from his afternoon nap on the sofa, he accepted one of the nutrition shakes from Laura. This one was a rather disturbingly artificial "strawberry" flavor, which had never been in the same Realm as a true strawberry, but it was sweet enough he didn't care. He was now strong enough to balance the cup in the palm of his hand and spare his fingers, while he drank from the straw. He was getting more used to doing things with a limited range of motion in his good hand and only the bound mitt of the left. He was also getting used to the loose, simple clothing he had to wear since he couldn't manage most fasteners or anything that interfered with the bandages at his waist. That proved one could get used to anything, including clothing a single step up from rags. But something was better than nothing, and the mere thought of wearing nothing made the anxious nausea come back. So he tried not to think or remember, and existed inside the bubble of the Barton family while his body healed with mortal slowness.

Lila bounded in, awake as well, with Cooper at her heels. " _Star Wars_!" she announced, waving a small plastic box. "You have to watch. Sorry. It's a rule."

"Lila," Laura called, warning her to be polite, but Loki raised a hand.

"No, no, I want to see it," he said. "It seems to greatly influence modern entertainment."

"Mom, can we have popcorn?" Cooper asked and plucked the box from his sister's hand. "I'll put it in."

Lila settled herself at Loki's side, and Cooper flopped down on the other after he put the disk into the machine. Loki was struck by how these two mortal children treated the god-alien in their midst with such casual familiarity. He settled back as Cooper operated the remote control.

A few minutes later, Laura came back, bearing a plastic bowl of popcorn. Loki saw no value in the foodstuff at all, but found himself holding it on his lap so both the children could reach it.

The film itself was like a moving painting, and it took several minutes for him to adjust to the slow rate of the pictures switching, realizing the humans were seeing the flicker as movement. But once he got used to it, he started to enjoy himself. "His name is Luke!" he exclaimed when he heard it. "That is one of my names. How delightful."

"And Leia is like my name!" Lila told him excited. "Too bad there's no name like Cooper." She stuck her tongue out at her brother, and Loki chuckled, reminded of his own youthful antics against Thor.

At the destruction of Alderaan, his eyes widened in shock that much wanton destruction was in a children's film. An entire world? A fictional world, but still, a _planet_. That was like his horror over the destruction of Arendelle in the war, but near infinite. His breathing seemed caught in his chest, and suddenly his eyes burned, thinking of the scale of such a horror. Glancing at the children, they were not as affected, and he tried to catch his breath, and remind himself it wasn't real. His reaction had nothing to do with the film itself, only his current weakness. Identifying the problem didn't seem to help much.

Lila paused the film and turned to him, frowning in concern. "Are you sad?"

"An entire world?" he asked. "I have read of such horrors, but there have been none in my time. This Empire destroyed an entire world?"

Lila nodded, as if she hadn't really grasped what that meant before. "Yeah, the whole planet. It's sad, huh?"

He nodded, and made himself smile at her. "But go on. I suspect this evil will get its comeuppance or the entertainment would be sad."

She started the movie again, and probably in an effort to comfort him, she scooted closer, nudging her way under his arm. Not long after, Cooper did the same, a little afraid when the heroes were trapped with the trash compactor monster.

Yet, somehow, holding these two small children, their fragile little mortal bodies under his hands, while he watched this simple Earther entertainment, he felt... content. That tension that had held him so tightly, not only since his capture but before it as well, eased.

Lila wasn't Elsa. He'd never known Elsa at this age, so it wasn't that exactly. But it warmed something inside to know that Lila and Cooper both trusted him. They liked him being around. He felt comfortable here, as he'd felt when Elsa and Anna had made him welcome in Arendelle, and as he hadn't felt in Asgard since he'd found out the truth.

They made him feel welcome and he wanted to protect them in turn. Not out of obligation or guilt for having failed the first time, but because he wanted to keep them safe.

Their hearts were beating, quick as a little bird's, full of that bright spark of mortal life. He closed his eyes to try to engrave this moment in his memory. Midgard was not only pain; there was more, too. There were mortals - strangers - who had risked their lives to rescue him and taken him into their home. There were these children who offered their acceptance so freely.

He bent his head with slow care so he wouldn't pull at his wound, and he kissed the top of Lila's head, like he had Elsa and her baby centuries ago. Lila was not his blood, but that didn't matter for how he felt. He would do anything to keep her safe.

There was acceptance, and friendship, and being welcomed into another family.

 _There was love_.

Warmth gathered inside his chest, and his eyes shot open in sudden hope as the coals abruptly grew to a blaze in his heart. The smooth eggshell that had caged his powers dissolved in the heat and released.

He gasped, head tilted back, at the sensation of liquid fire that ran to the tips of his fingers and a wave of heat washed over his skin and dove deep within his bones.

His wounds knitted and healed, and he released a long breath of relief at the touch of seidr again.

He stood up and yanked the bandages and splints off his left hand, eager to test his fingers. They moved stiffly and ached still, but nothing like the pain or numbness he'd felt before, as he opened and closed his hand. Given a little more time, they would heal.

The two children watched him, with puzzled little faces. "Uncle Lukas?" Lila asked, looking worried. Cooper added, "Are you okay?"

"I am better than okay. I'm all healed, thanks to you both." He smoothed Lila's hair with his newly freed fingers, glad to be able to touch again. "My power returned, little one. You and your brother helped me get it back."

"Your power?" she asked, and Cooper asked eagerly, "The Ice Demon powers?"

Glancing at the television and the movie still playing there, he smiled. "Oh yes." It was a moment's effort to twine the seidr into a gleaming blade of blue coldfire rising from his hand.

The two kids' mouths dropped open, and their eyes widened with a gratifying amazement. "MOM!" Cooper shouted. "He can make a lightsaber, come look! It's so cool!"

"Not exactly," he corrected. "It won't hurt you. It's only light." He passed his other hand through the 'blade'.

Laura appeared from around the corner where she had been folding laundry and the towel slithered right out of her hand to the floor as she stared. "Lukas?"

He grinned at her. "Your delightful children have reminded me of goodness and love sufficient to open the binding on my power. I am fully healed and returned to my strength." He closed his hand, extinguishing the fire.

"Bring it back!" Lila exclaimed, disappointed.

"Wait. Let me see," Laura demanded, examining both hands, and then she shoved his shirt up to unwrap the bandages there to check his other wound, as if she feared he was deluded. He let her, arms spread.

"There? You are satisfied?"

She stepped back, eyes still fixed to his bare stomach. "That's— that's amazing. It's like nothing happened," she murmured. "There's barely a mark." She brushed a finger across where a pale, more tender line remained, and he flinched back.

She noticed his reaction and her eyes caught his. "Quick healing, but the memories remain," she murmured, sympathy in her voice.

He tugged the hem of the t-shirt back in place, considered changing what he was wearing, and decided he'd rather let his powers continue the healing. The skin was mostly healed, but he could feel a lingering wrongness inside that would need more time. But then it would be gone. He forced a quick smile for her. "Memories fade with time. And I will have much of that, now that I am restored. Do not fret for me."

Her eyes met his, seeing a bit more deeply than he would wish, but she let it go, saying more cheerfully, "This calls for a celebration, then! Lila, go tell your father it's time to take a break. Cooper, pour lemonade for everyone on the veranda, we'll eat out there today. And you, since you're all healed up, you can cut the watermelon."

Loki put a hand to his stomach and teased, "Oh, I can't possibly, I am too fatigued..."

Laura picked up the towel she'd dropped and flicked the end at him. "C'mon, injured guests don't have to do work, but demigods can help out."

"Demigod! There is nothing demi about me." He sniffed in offense, but chuckled as he gathered up his scattered bandages and dumped them all in the trash. The lid banging shut was satisfying, as it seemed to put an end to the entire … _incident_. He was healed and it was time to get on with returning to himself again.

Loki joined Laura in the kitchen to carve the watermelon. It took a moment to remember how to hold the knife handle properly and his fingers still curled with reluctance, but soon he was cutting off serving wedges according to Laura's instruction. He'd only put three on the platter when Thor banged in. "Loki! Lila said-" Then he stopped and saw Loki using his hands again, and in two steps, he had grabbed Loki into a tight embrace against his chest.

Heart seizing and breath stopping in his chest, Loki shoved him. "Get off!"

Thor stumbled back, probably unused to Loki having any strength at all. "Loki?" he asked cautiously.

Aware he'd over-reacted, Loki inhaled a careful breath. "Just... I... Don't grab me. But yes, I am healed." He lifted his left hand and wiggled his fingers to prove he was well, careful to keep his face calm against the renewed throbbing at the movement.

"I am glad, of course," Thor said, blue eyes still regarding Loki with some concern. "But how? You were watching the movie, I thought."

"We can't all dramatically throw ourselves at bullets," Loki answered dryly, but when Thor was unamused, he added more truthfully, "It turns out Papi was right, only love could thaw the Ice Demon's frozen heart, and that was what bound the spell." His gaze was drawn outside to where he could see Lila tugging her father by the hand to get him to hurry and come see. "She didn't even need to be my blood for me to love her," he murmured. "Which I suppose was the point."

Thor gripped his shoulder. "However it happened, I'm glad, Loki."

Loki kept still under the touch, reminding himself of how gently Thor had carried him when he'd been helpless. "Yes, we all are. Now, let me finish my task, and we can properly celebrate."

* * *

... tbc...


	20. A Letter Arrives

His powers were restored, but healing himself had taken so much energy he found himself exhausted by evening anyway. Glad to be able to hold the book himself, he read another silly dinosaur story to Lila – she seemed to have an inexhaustible supply of books about dinosaurs doing mundane human tasks – and went to bed. Sleep however was broken by a nightmare of Schmidt, exhorting Rumlow, Zola, Ward, and the rest of his shadowy minions to cut Loki's flesh, and even after waking, he had to leave the house and stand beneath the stars before he calmed.

 _They're dead, they're all dead_ , he reminded himself. _You are alive and they are all dead_.

Natasha was waiting for him on the veranda as he walked up the steps. "Bad dream?" she asked quietly.

"Did I wake you?" he asked as his answer.

She shrugged for hers. After a moment, while they both stood at the wooden railing to look out at the quiet farm and listened to the noise of the insects and a distant confused bird, she murmured, "When I was a child in the Red Room, they handcuffed us to our cots, to make sure we understood we belonged to them. So, sometimes, I get out of bed just to prove I can."

He listened to that with dismay, that humans had done such to one another, but the point was not the horror, but that she was sharing it with him. "Thank you for trusting me with the truth."

Lightly, she set her hand atop his, where it rested on the railing. "When you're ready, I'll listen, Lukas. Or if not me, someone."

He shook his head. He didn't want to think about it, and he certainly didn't want to _talk_ about it. And not to some mortal who could never understand. "I lived through worse than those few days, Natalya."

"The point is, you're not alone," she reminded him.

He _was_ alone. He was always alone. He belonged nowhere, fated to be abandoned, time and again. But after the first impulse to deny her words, he glanced down at where their hands still touched, and he thought of the children sleeping inside the house, his new friends in Clint and Laura, and his brother who had stayed with him.

He was still what and who he was, that would never change, but at least here, today, he could accept that she was right. He wasn't alone.

* * *

Loki was in Cooper's room, kneeling by his chair so he wasn't looming over the boy, with the _Rabbit's Guide to the Universe_ open on the desk. It was painful to look at, knowing the original was lost with only the page Natasha said she'd managed to save remaining. If he had just left it with Randolph it might still be safe, so he had only himself to blame, but he was now glad Randolph had made copies. He'd been pleased to discover that Cooper had one of them, even if it seemed he'd never read it, because he was still repeating the same simplistic dogma about the speed of light that everyone in this Realm believed.

The stairs creaked, giving him warning before Natasha rapped on the door frame. "Sorry to interrupt, Lukas, but Clint needs to borrow you in the barn for a few minutes."

"Can it wait?" Loki asked, "We're getting to the good part."

"You can come right back," she promised. His eyes met hers, and he knew this had nothing to do with Clint needing help in the barn. He tensed, memories of ambush slipping through him. But since he didn't believe she meant him harm, he let the anxiety pass.

"Of course," he agreed, and tapped the page in front of Cooper. "Finish this chapter and we will discuss it when I return. It's not a difficult concept, but humans seem to ignore it. I'm hoping you're young enough not to let the foolishness take hold yet."

He followed her outside. "Does Clint actually need anything?"

She glanced at him and let the corner of her mouth lift in a wry acknowledgment that he'd read her correctly. "No. Someone's here to meet you, but we'd rather the kids not know." She pulled the door to the barn open, and ushered him inside.

Two strangers stood there. One wore a long black coat, an eye patch that reminded Loki uncomfortably of Odin, and his good eye glowered at Loki with an intensity that Loki recognized. The second man wore an ordinary suit and tie, was balding, and he was staring at Loki with unabashed amazement.

"Lukas, this is Nicholas Fury, director of SHIELD, and Agent Phil Coulson," Natasha introduced. Her mouth quirked in a bit of a smile. "You've heard of him."

"Ah, yes, you have the Captain America bedsheets?" Loki asked blandly.

Coulson spluttered. "What? No! I don't have–-! Romanoff!"

Loki offered his hand. "Jesting. Well met, Agent Coulson. I thank you for bringing Thor from New Mexico to come to my aid."

Coulson looked down at their joined hands as if he couldn't quite believe what was happening. "My God, you look just like the photos. I have an Ice Demon card from the Howling Commandos set of 1963, cost me two hundred bucks, and now I have the real thing standing in front of me. Amazing."

"Coulson, fanboy on your own time," Director Fury intervened and said to Loki, "I suppose I should thank you for luring the rats out of my organization. I also have to apologize for what my men did – or what I thought were my men, and they weren't."

Loki didn't think he was ready to accept the apology. It lacked a measure of sincerity; not that Fury wasn't sorry it had happened, but it was delivered with his mind on other things. So he replied with only a very basic, "I appreciate your coming in person to tell me that."

Fury seemed to have expected more in return, and Loki's word left him no opening. "Well, you're welcome. I had another reason for coming. I have a letter for you, Mister Onsdag."

Loki raised his brows skeptically. This was unexpected. "A letter."

"It took some time. But when we heard the Lukas Onsdag name, we knew this was yours." He held out an envelope, the paper yellowed with age. "It's from a former director of SHIELD. To you."

Loki took it, to see "Hold for Lukas Onsdag" written in a good hand on the outside, including the words, "Eyes only".

He glanced up at Fury. "How can you be sure it's for me?"

"There are a lot of people with that name the director would leave a letter to in the future?" Fury countered.

Loki had to grant that was true. Despite the 'eyes only' designation, It had obviously been read, because the adhesive had been broken and resealed, and the crease in the letter was no longer crisp, but all those thoughts flew out of his head when he saw _Peggy Carter-Barnes_ had signed it. His lips parted. "Margaret. Agent Carter? Barnes? She wrote this to me? She married James?" He turned to Natasha, demanding. "You never told me this."

She lifted her brows. "I was waiting for you to ask."

Which he hadn't, not wanting to know when or how they'd died. It had never occurred to him that they might have married. Now buoyed by that news, he was smiling when he moved away to read her letter by the door.

 _My dear Mister Onsdag_ ,

 _It has been fifteen years since that fateful day when Schmidt's plane crashed and neither you nor Captain Rogers were recovered. However, if you are reading this, then it has come to pass as I suspected, that you did not perish and instead left us. I have the authority and ability to see that someday you receive it, if you come back to us_.

 _I wish to be clear, that I do not blame you for leaving. Although I would have liked to know that you survived, I have some experience in surviving where other dear friends did not, and I imagine it must be worse for you. I remember you standing in Westminster Abbey in the darkness among the dead, and I realized that life among us must feel like that all the time_.

 _But set your heart at ease that Captain Rogers died, as he lived, as a good man and a hero. That is how I remember him. I do not know what happened on that plane, but I do know his death is not your fault. He chose his service to his country, and his last words to me were of wishing to dance. He was at peace with his decision_.

 _If we are still living when you read this, come to me or James; we both would very much like to see you again. Or search out our daughter. She is named Lucy, for you, the man who saved her father from certain death. She is fascinated by the stories of Arendelle and the Ice Demon, and I hope you meet her someday_.

 _Most sincerely, Peggy Carter-Barnes, Director, SHIELD_

Loki gasped. _Lucy_. For him.

He lifted his face to look for Natasha, his eyes wet, as he felt a strange stirring and this new fragile heart of his felt too large in his chest.

"She… named her daughter … for me," he could barely make his voice work. "For _me_."

Natasha smiled at him. "I know."

Coulson offered, "Doctor Barnes is a professor of Scandinavian literature. She advised us on the hammer."

Loki heard but it was too much to grasp. He looked at Natasha helplessly, shaking his head. "But… she was wrong. She didn't know. It was my fault. Steven died because of me," he whispered.

"That isn't so, Mister Onsdag," Fury declared, stepping forward, his long black coat flourishing like a cape behind him.

Loki felt a sharp prick of temper and narrowed his eyes at Fury. "You weren't there. You don't know. I do."

"True, I wasn't there. But I do know Captain America didn't die because of you."

Natasha's eyes swung to Fury, reading something in his tone or words that Loki was too distraught to pick up on yet. "And how," he demanded, "do you know that?"

"Because Captain America isn't dead," Fury announced, and somehow managed to look both menacing and smug.

For a moment, Loki felt hope, until he shoved it away. "That is impossible! I saw the plane go into the sea. The cockpit window was shattered. If he didn't drown, he would've frozen to death."

"Apparently, the super soldier serum had an unintended side effect - extreme cold acts as total hibernation, keeping him in nearly perfect stasis. But alive. He was recovered from the North Atlantic seven days ago," Fury explained.

 _ALIVE_.

Loki stared at him, incomprehension filling his mind. It couldn't be true. It was impossible. Yet Fury seemed to believe it. Loki sensed no lie in the words.

Luckily Natasha was able to speak, asking calmly, "Steve Rogers, Captain America, is alive?"

"Yes, he is, Agent Romanoff. And he's waking up, soon," Fury told her and then turned his eye on Loki. "He's been asleep a long time. I bet he'd like to wake up to a familiar face. And since all his other familiar faces are either long dead or ninety years old, I bet he'd like to see yours."

Loki glanced down at the letter, then back up, feeling numb and overwhelmed. "Yes, of course. I want to see him. Your words are true, but… they can't be."

"They are true, but I'm sure you want to see for yourself. On one condition."

"Condition?" Loki repeated and his eyes narrowed. "I don't react well to _conditions_."

"Maybe not, but I have one. I will take you to see Captain America - Steve Rogers – in his secure and secret hospital facility in exchange for your agreement to join the Avengers Initiative."

Loki froze and then spat in sudden rage, "I will not be your dog, Fury."

"That's not-"

"Do not lie to me, Nicholas. Do not ever try to lie to me," Loki warned. "You are a fool who thinks you can control beings so much more powerful than you are. But like the last man with a bald head and a black coat who tried to keep me on a leash, you will find it comes at a steep price." He whirled and stalked out, the door slamming behind him.

* * *

Fury watched him go and said dryly, "I'm a fool and Red Skull. I made a good impression."

Natasha almost smiled. "Did you think that would work?"

"I expect you to get it to work," he ordered her.

Did he understand what he was asking? Or who he was asking it from? Lukas had his powers back, but that didn't make him well. He couldn't be ready for what Fury wanted. But she settled on a more pragmatic objection from her observation. "He's not a team player."

But Fury wasn't interested. "Is Stark? The world's a dangerous place, Agent Romanoff. Blonsky and Banner are just the beginning. And that man -" he pointed in the direction Loki had gone, "is the reason. Stomping around in our history for the last three hundred years, he made this problem and he's going to help us control it. Get him on board."

Her gaze met Coulson's but she found no help there. Coulson wanted the Ice Demon, and now he was going to get Captain America, too; he was never going to say the plan wasn't right.

She nodded once. "Yes, sir."

Natasha found Loki on the other side of the house, away from the barn, where the Bartons split the logs for their fireplace. He wasn't doing anything so useful, only standing in the grass as if he'd run out of battery and stopped. Without turning he told her, "He knows I can find Rogers without him, doesn't he? So why would he try such a transparent and offensive attempt to control me?"

"Well, no, he probably doesn't know you can do that," she admitted. "Can you?"

His flash of a smile had more than a touch of contempt in it. "I have my powers back. I could put all of you in thrall and compel you to tell me Steven's location. If I wanted."

She eyed him, feeling a stir of uneasiness in her middle related to mental compulsion. She hadn't known he could do that, either.

He noticed her anxiety, and his expression softened. "I would not, not to you, Natalya."

Pushing the past away, she said in a level voice, "You want to stay. You want to help us; you said so. Was that a lie?"

He didn't answer at first, gaze slipping over the wood pile without seeing it. "No. But on my terms. Not at Fury's call. I will not be confined - not by walls and not by words. Not ever again." His hands were gathered into fists, and she nodded her understanding. He'd gotten anxious at the idea of captivity before, and now it was worse.

"He chose his words poorly," she admitted. "He wants to get you involved, and he thought giving you what you want would help that. But he's not trying to make you a part of SHIELD. The Avengers Initiative is more of a group of people in reserve he can call on if he needs more help than SHIELD can provide. Metahuman or alien threats, for example. You'd be like Tony Stark, help when you choose, and not if you don't. But willing to help sometimes, at least."

He thought about that and said, "Fury is a fool, Natalya. He has the tesseract somewhere, and he is trying to duplicate what Schmidt did." She held herself still so she wouldn't react - how did he know that? He shouldn't know that. Even she wasn't supposed to know about it. But it didn't matter. Loki didn't need her confirmation. He looked out across the field and up to the sky, with somber eyes that seemed to see a terrible future, murmuring, "Elsa struck the match, and Schmidt lit a lamp, and now Fury's beacon will call the wolves from the forest. They will come, and this world is not ready."

That gave her the key to find the right words. "Then help us. If you can't stop what's coming, stay and help us fight it. That's what the Avengers Initiative is about."

He held out his hand and a greenish flame formed, growing until it seemed his whole hand was on fire. She watched with astonishment, as this was the first magic she'd seen him perform. She reached out to feel it, slowly, so he could draw it away if there was danger. But he let her touch it. There was warmth to it but surprisingly little, and the flame seemed to wrap itself around her hand, like an over-eager dog licking her fingers, before Loki closed his hand into a fist and extinguished it.

"Tricks and knives," he murmured, as if quoting something. "That's all I have. I am no hero, as I learned during the war." He shook his head once, jaw clenching on some darker thoughts or memories. It pained her to see that much self-doubt creeping into him, that he would think he was unworthy for it. But that was exactly why he needed to do it.

She had to start with something more basic, though. She moved closer, pressing her arm against his. "Steve Rogers is alive."

"By luck," he said dismissively. "Not due to my actions."

"I read your file," she told him. "You and Rogers took down that base in the Alps by yourselves."

He still seemed resistant, shrugging off the implication of her words. "There was little risk to me."

"You saved Barnes," she said. "You jumped off a train, diving after him, even though by all reason he was already dead. You tried to save Arendelle from another invasion with no powers at all. What is that, if not heroic?"

He snorted a laugh. "Yes, trying to save it from an invasion that didn't exist."

"You didn't know that." She hesitated and weighed what else she knew and what more she could guess, before saying, "You don't want to go back to Asgard, do you?"

The twitch and the way his lips pressed flat were answer enough. There was anger there, but he buried it, saying in a level voice, "Not especially, no. I have no purpose there."

"Then find your purpose here. Defend us."

For a moment, he seemed tempted then shook his head with weary resignation. "You don't want that," he murmured. "I make things worse, not better. Arendelle was leveled by the Nazis because of me. I have so much blood on my hands."

"You think I don't?" she returned. "I haven't lived as long, but you think these hands are clean?" She held out both hands. They looked clean but she knew better. "I told you a bit about my past, and there's more and worse I didn't say. I came to SHIELD because I wanted to put my skills to work to protect people, to try to make some amends for what I did, to balance my ledger. You can do that, too." She held up a hand to stop his incipient disagreement. "On your own terms. But you know we need someone to help us who knows what's out there." She thought of that evil presence that Papi had showed her. "What's coming."

"And you?" he asked. "Do you want me to stay?"

She inhaled a breath and said carefully, "This should have nothing to do with me. You said you couldn't have a relationship with a mortal." He'd said that while reacting in a way that suggested his torture had included assault, so she knew mortality was only a part of why he'd refused.

But Loki didn't admit that part of it. "I did say that. Because mortals die."

"So it's not that we're … beneath you." She saw his eyes glint as he started to grin and she nudged him sharply. "Stop it. My point is, I thought you said that because humans are inferior, or it's not permitted."

His attempt at innuendo thwarted, he pouted his lower lip and looked away. "Nobody forbids me, and while many would say mortals are inferior, that is not why I said that." He added more softly, "Mortals are candle flames. It is a bright and beautiful light, but at any moment it can be snuffed out and leave only darkness behind. I tried not to care, not to be attached, but it never worked. Elsa's passing still pains me… Steven... All this time I believed he was dead, and knowing he's alive, does not help."

She touched her hand to his, and when he didn't move it away, she tucked her fingers in his. Despite or maybe because of what had happened, he seemed thirsty for gentle touch. His fingers gripped hers, holding her hand, as if she was keeping him from floating away. "I don't think you should love less," she murmured. "Being callous is a trap, Lukas. I was taught death is cheap and life is valueless. Sometimes, on mission, I have to be that person again. When I went in to rescue you, I killed them all. Because that was how I was trained and it's easy to return to that." He opened his mouth, the look on his face both impressed and sorrowful. She shook her head to stop him from saying anything. "You were worth it and I don't regret any of it. But I know if I'm like that all the time, life is empty. What's the point of living so long if it's cold and you're alone? So maybe what you should try is to love more. Spread it more widely so one death doesn't destroy you each time." She tugged their hands up between them, so he could see how they were entwined. "I think you have the idea that somehow humans are immune to grief because we don't live as long, but we're not. Do you think it'll hurt me less if you get killed?"

"I'm not going to get-"

She put her fingers over his mouth. "You can die. Not easily, but it's not impossible. And if you die, it'll hurt me. Do you think it didn't hurt Barnes that both you and Rogers were killed together? That his best friend in the world, and the man who'd saved his life, both were gone?"

His lips parted in shock, eyes flaring as if the idea had never occurred to him.

"You didn't think of that?" Natasha asked. "That Barnes would grieve?"

"No," Loki managed to force the word out. He looked at the letter in his other hand. "Or Margaret. I … didn't think of them. I left."

She lifted her brows but didn't say anything to point out his selfishness. She didn't need to. He slumped, looking disheartened by the evidence that abandoning Steve had not been his only wrong when he'd left.

Perhaps giving him more to feel guilty about wasn't a good tactic. After a moment, she let out a breath and coaxed him to the stump, pushing him to sit down. "He grieved, Lukas. But he did move on. They had a family and fought together. You know…." She hesitated and then said, "No, you don't, do you? They're both still alive."

His head lifted. "What? How?"

His shock made her smile. "It hasn't been _that_ long. They're elderly, and I know she's in a care home, but it turns out Bucky Barnes was given some blood by a _certain individual_ ," she teased, "that gave him some longevity. You can see them both. If you stay."

He brightened and then his expression turned hopeless again. "They surely don't want to see me. After I abandoned them without a thought."

She held back a sigh and glanced deliberately down at the letter. "What does Director Carter say?"

He opened it to read it again. "She says to come to them," he admitted, with teeth-pulling reluctance, as if he still couldn't bring himself to believe Carter's own words. "That she doesn't blame me. Though this was written many years ago..."

"They want to see you," she murmured in reassurance. "They'll be so happy that you and Rogers are alive and they get to see you again, Lukas."

He didn't want to go to Asgard and he wanted to see his friends again... there was really only one choice to make, but if she pushed too hard, he would resist. So she kept quiet, letting him work his way to the answer himself. In the end, as she'd expected, not even his legitimate fears of SHIELD were enough to keep him away from the lure of seeing Rogers, Barnes, and Director Carter again. He tucked the letter carefully into an inside pocket and lifted his head to meet her eyes. "Very well. I will join this Avengers program of Fury's. With some... conditions."

She snorted. "Oh, he loves those. Almost as much as you do. Let's go back."

They returned to the barn, where Fury was waiting alone. No trace of Loki's doubt remained in his voice or his posture, as he stood tall to confront the director.

"I will join your Avengers," Loki told Fury. "I have my own terms. First, you and yours will _ask_ for my assistance, you will not assume or compel or demand it. If I refuse, you accept that. Second, you do not monitor or restrict where I travel or who I see."

"Agreed," Fury answered, with a nod.

"That was rather … easy," Loki said, dry disbelief creeping into his tone and she wanted to smile. He had a dark, but not inaccurate, grasp on SHIELD. "Third, and this will be more difficult for you, you will not with-hold information from me, when you want my help. Your secrets are not my concern. If you want my help, do not attempt to manipulate me with ignorance or partial information. I will know." He nodded to Fury, started to the door, but turned back. "One last thing. Keep control of your minions. If anyone asks to examine me, or take a sample, or anything of the sort, I will kill them. No patience, no mercy, only death." It was said as a low, cold statement of fact, and Natasha believed him. "I trust I am understood?" he asked.

"You are."

"Good." He forced a smile that didn't touch his eyes. "Do not test my resolve, or believe a gentle approach will earn a gentle response. Because it will not. I will tear out the throat of the next person who thinks to _experiment_ on me." Loki turned on his heel and left.

"Believe him," Natasha advised Fury. "He's not nearly as well as he'd like you to think."

Fury grunted. "Since I think he's a bag of neuroses and trauma, that's not very encouraging, Agent Romanoff. But he's on board. Maybe he and Rogers can help each other out."

She smiled, pleased for both of them. Rogers would wake to a familiar face, and Loki would be happy to see his old friend alive.

* * *

... tbc...

only two more chapters!


	21. Going Home

**CHAPTER 21**

 **Going Home**

 **.**

Thor found his brother on the Barton veranda, standing at the railing and looking out at the farm. He was wearing Midgardian clothes of a black T-shirt and black jeans, simpler than Thor would have imagined him wearing, and Thor did not care for how thin he looked in them. It was a reminder to Thor not to be deceived by the return of his powers; he was physically better, but not restored fully.

Now that he was able to walk, Loki sought the outdoors, despite the sticky warmth. The open air was a place he seemed to find some solace, and Thor was loath to break his peace, but it seemed time to discuss when they were going home.

Loki didn't greet him, and his thoughts must have been so distant he didn't hear Thor's tread on the old wood, because he twitched when Thor said his name. Grieved to see Loki still easily startled despite his powers' return, Thor joined him, letting their arms brush instead of gripping his shoulder as he would have before. "Only me, brother."

Loki glanced at him, wry smile twisting his lips. "There is nothing 'only' about you." He looked at Thor's face, read something there, and turned to resume his watch of the farm. "This feels familiar, you and me and a parapet, as you convince me to return to Asgard. But the result will be different this time."

Thor knew what he meant, and for a moment, forgot his words in his sudden stab of loss. "But, Loki, we both can return. We have our powers back."

Loki shook his head and gripped the rail with both hands. "It makes no difference. I will not return."

Thor frowned in puzzlement. He'd expected reluctance, but he'd also expected Loki to want to talk to their parents. "But… if this is about Rogers, of course we need not return immediately. But after that, surely you want-"

Loki cut him off sharply. "No. I would stay even if he were dead." His temper settled as he drew a deep breath. "In the two hundred years since I left Elsa in Arendelle, what has changed in Asgard? I hear the children's games, when they play Aesir against giant. There is always growling and shrieking and brave warriors slaying the monsters."

"Loki…"

Loki ignored him. "But why shouldn't they? The warriors get in their cups and they talk about how the Allfather should raise an army to Jotunheim and exterminate them. They don't say such things about the dwarves of Nidavellir, or the Alfar. Only Frost Giants. So I know, if this masquerade falters..." He held up a hand and a green-gold shimmer swept over it. His pale pink skin seemed to peel back from his fingers, to show black nails and the pattern rising in the bluish skin on the back of his hand. "I will be reviled. All that I have ever done or been on Asgard, will mean nothing, and in a heartbeat I will be one of _them_."

Thor forced himself to look. Loki rarely let him see, so every time it was like new, and he had to remind himself this was the truth of Loki's blood. It was still a relief when Loki made it go away, and that relief made him feel guilty. So his voice was a bit too strident in objection. "Not so," Thor persisted. "You will still be my brother. Their son."

Loki snorted and shook his head in disbelief. "Am I?"

"Of course you are! Loki, why will you not believe me?" Thor implored. "You're my brother."

"I know you mean that," Loki said, glancing at him with a sad smile. "And I appreciate it. But you refuse to acknowledge that if the secret is revealed, no one else will care. The truth stays secret to this day for a _reason_. I have no wish to live in a place where I constantly hear about how monstrous I am." Thor would have objected, but Loki shot a poisonous glare at him that shut his mouth. "Let me speak. I drown in my own hate there. I hate what I am, I hate that my life is built on a lie, and I _hate_ that I will never be more than that, because of what I was born."

Echoes of words spoken years before were loud in Thor's ears, and reminded him of a promise he had made. "I tried… Mother and I tried to help," Thor protested. "We wanted so badly to make it better for you."

"I know. But all you did was push it beneath to fester. Asgard won't change. It can't because he doesn't _want_ it to. Asgard needs warriors and they need an enemy to hate. Or they'll grow soft and start reading books." His lips curled in some brief dark amusement before his hands tightened on the railing. He stared out at the stand of woods beyond the nearer field, murmuring, "I might have had consolation in family, but he abandons me time and again. He rushed to rescue you on Jotunheim, but does nothing for me."

"Father rescued us both on Jotunheim," Thor reminded him.

"If I had been there alone, would he have come? I want to say 'of course he would' but I doubt. I no longer believe he would have done anything." Loki's voice grew ragged despite his attempts to keep it controlled. "He did nothing when Schmidt pinned me in the dark and put blades in my flesh, and he did nothing when those Hydra children chained me like a beast and they-" his voice cracked, and he wrapped his arms around himself before he could start again, "and they snapped every bone in my fingers, because they could."

This was the first time Thor had heard Loki speak of what had happened, and it hurt to know he'd been too late. But still he needed to correct Loki's unjust accusation. "Loki, he didn't know-"

"Don't you dare defend him to me!" Loki burst out. "He knew! He always knew!" Breath ragged, he inhaled deeply to calm his temper, finishing with a quieter bitterness, "And he left me to that as part of my 'lesson' on compassion, and yet he had none for me. I cannot go to a place I'm supposed to respect him. Because I have none."

Stricken by this rejection of their father, Thor protested, "But, Loki, we can go back, find out why-"

"Why? I know _why_!" Loki turned to him, calm sparking back to fury. "Because he's tired of the foundling pretending to be his blood! Because he wants his precious Asgard kept pure." He snarled the final word hatefully, letting out a heavy breath as he spun away from Thor. He stalked down the steps, away from the house and out into the sunlight of the yard. Thor followed him, until he stopped. He seemed less angry but no less upset, looking out at the field and distant hills on the horizon, breaths unsteady, with his arms tightly folded. Thor wanted to protest that surely was not why, but since Thor didn't know the reason, he didn't offer any excuses. Loki wouldn't hear them anyway.

Once he calmed Loki added, "All I know is, as much as I have suffered on this world, nothing here has hurt me so deeply as he has. I will not return."

The words were spoken softly but with crystal clear intent, and they struck like a blow to Thor's chest, as hard as Mjolnir. Not only did Loki not want to go back; he didn't want to go back, _ever_.

That lonely century when Loki had vanished now threatened to repeat itself, and Thor could not bear the thought.

"No, Loki, _brother_ ," Thor said and then could get no farther as his voice seized in his throat. He gripped Loki's shoulder and pulled him into a tight embrace. Into Loki's hair, speaking hoarsely and for Loki's ears only, he said, "When I am king, I will make it different. I swear to you, you will come home again and be my brother. As it should be."

To his relief and delight, Loki's arms came up to clasp him in return. "I will like that," he whispered. "Until then, Thor, keep well."

Thor pulled back only enough to kiss his brow. "You keep _yourself_ well," Thor insisted. "You do such a poor job of it in this Realm."

"I have friends to watch my back." He glanced over his shoulder at the house. "It will be better now."

"I hope so. I will see you again, soon," Thor promised. "Do you wish to give me something to bring to Mother?"

Loki hesitated, eyes flickering with uncertainty. Thor thought for a moment's sadness that he would refuse. But he held out his hand, forming a small ice sculpture in his palm. Thor took it, finding it was a figure on a base, and he held it up to examine, frowning at the curious clothing. "Is it you?"

Loki managed a smile. "There is a statue of me in Arendelle."

Startled, Thor met his eyes. "Truly?"

"The Ice Demon. It is rather ridiculous." He shrugged with an attempt at disdain that did nothing to disguise how proud of it he was. Thor, who knew the likelihood of a statue of Loki in Asgard was slim, felt a tightness in his chest of understanding. Loki was a hero on Midgard, stories were told of his exploits; why would he leave that for a place where he had felt hardly appreciated in centuries?

Thor clasped the little ice sculpture carefully to his chest in one hand. "She will treasure it, I am certain, even if she complains that you did not come back with me."

Loki's smile faded and he turned his gaze back to the fields. "Perhaps she will."

A heavy stone fell in Thor's gut, reading into the too-careful tone. Loki was not only upset at their father. Thor drew breath and fished out the seeking stone from his pocket. "She sent this. This is how we found you." It was not until the flat line of Loki's lips relaxed that he realized how tense it had been. Thor offered him the stone. "Take it. You may need it." He put it into Loki's hand, and swallowed hard, uncertain what more to say. "That is well then." But he didn't move to leave, because it wasn't well at all. Uneasiness twisted in his gut; it was wrong to leave Loki here. Why should Thor get to go home and his brother felt he could not? Why had their parents allowed such a gulf to open up between them and Loki?

Before he could give Loki his promise to find out the answers, the screen door slammed open and a piping voice called, "Uncle Lukas, Uncle Lukas! Helicopter!" Both of them turned to see Lila running out of the door to the steps. She launched herself in a leap, fearless and trusting. Loki caught her and swooped her up, twirling her over his head, as she shrieked in delight.

They ended with her clasped in one arm against his side. "Yes, little one?" he asked her, smiling with genuine affection, and the shadows were banished from his face by her exuberance. "What is it?"

She was grinning and laughed. "Do it again! Do it again!"

"Later. Was that all you wanted?"

"No!" She said with great impatience, as if he was the dumbest of creatures, "Blue Bear and Ariel said you have to come to the tea party!"

Thor would never have believed someone telling him this tale; Loki holding a little mortal girl in his arms and being agreeable to her invitation to sit on her floor and have conversations with her toys. Though in his defense, Loki's magic did make it more interesting, at least. "I need to say goodbye to Thor, first, then I'll come inside, all right?"

"Goodbye?" she repeated and looked sad. She reached out for him and Loki brought her close enough to plant a kiss on his cheek. "Bye, Uncle Thor."

That was the first time the children had called him that, and it made something stick in his throat, remembering when he'd discovered he was an uncle to Elsa. "Farewell, Lila," he said to her, his voice coming out strange, and she laughed.

"You're so silly. Swing down?" she asked and put up her arms, so Loki could swing her around and lower her tiny body to the ground. She ran back up the steps, singing.

Loki looked after her fondly, and Thor shook his head in wonder. "It is good to see you thus. I will take word back to Mother that you have found a new contentment."

Loki didn't deny it. "Return to visit soon, Thor." He mounted the steps and raised a hand in farewell to Thor before he went inside.

Through the windows, Thor saw Laura greet him, and Clint Barton lifted a glass at the bar to offer Loki a drink. Lila took Loki's hand in hers to bring him to the tea party. They'd welcomed Loki without hesitation into their home, as if it had always been meant to house old gods in exile.

For the first time, possibly ever, Thor looked at his brother and envied him. He wanted to stay and enjoy the camaraderie himself, but... no, this was Loki's place now. Thor had his place in Asgard, and it was time to return to it.

He raised Mjolnir and called, "Heimdall, open the Bifrost!"

Nothing happened, and he felt a chill. Did this answer the question of what was happening in Asgard?

Before he had time to become more alarmed or call Loki back outside, the Bifrost slammed down and took him away.

* * *

Thor arrived in the Observatory, where he had last stood with both father and brother. He saw only Heimdall and all seemed at peace. Aware of the empty place at his side where Loki should stand – where Loki might never stand again – the anger surged within, as the familiar helm nodded in greeting with placid golden eyes, as if nothing had happened.

"Why?" Thor demanded, clenching his jaw and heading with heavy step toward the Watcher. "Why did you not send me to him? Or send more aid?"

Heimdall removed his hands from the pommel of his great sword and took one measured pace back from it. His voice was a low rumble. "It was not my place to interfere with the king's decision."

Thor thought of Loki thrashing in his bed, nightmares shredding his rest, and barely kept himself from lifting Mjolnir. "You saw him! You knew what they were doing. How did you stand idle and watch him suffer!"

"I watch everything, Odinson. It is my duty to watch."

Thor shook his head in confusion, not understanding. "You did nothing! Your own prince! Where was your loyalty?" And in Heimdall's lack of protest, Thor heard the answer and was shocked. "You have none."

"Had he been worthy of it, perhaps, but he is a traitor to Asgard," Heimdall said. Thor gaped and nearly struck him for the offense, but golden eyes held Thor's as he explained, "How did the Jotnar enter the vault? Who but Loki would have cause and means to do so? So the All-Father knew and sent him to exile. After that, I could not interfere."

Thor found he was not surprised to learn what Loki had done nor that Loki had not told him. It seemed irrelevant now, as if it had happened long ago.

He held onto his temper with clenched jaw and tight grip on Mjolnir's handle. "Pretty words, Watcher. But I know 'could not' is not the same as 'would not.' You could have, but you would not. Had you done more than merely watch, if you had shown him his birthplace makes no matter, he might have believed there was something to be loyal _to_. But how can he be loyal to a place and people who do nothing to stop such suffering?" Heimdall straightened and lifted his chin, as if to object or defend himself, but Thor had no desire to hear it. His fingers curved on Mjolnir's handle and wanted to heft it against Heimdall. Thor clenched his jaw. "Consider yourself blessed, Heimdall. Had he died, I would have your head."

Thor swept out of the Observatory, wishing he could slam Mjolnir into the bridge, shatter it all to pieces, and drop Heimdall with it. It made Thor ill to know that Heimdall had done nothing. But after a few deep breaths and distance from the Observatory, he realized he was mistaking his target. The root of his anger was Odin himself, not Heimdall. Odin was the one who had stripped their Gift and sent them away, and he was the one who had refused to give Loki his powers back, even when he was near death. Heimdall's inaction paled before that.

In the palace, he brushed past those who would stop him with greetings, ignoring those who seemed too cheerful for his mood, and he spoke only enough to find that the king was in his chambers attended by the queen.

He slammed into the bed chamber, ready to demand answers. Thor found the lights dim, and Odin motionless in the great bed. His furious demands died on his tongue, unspoken. There would be no answers from him.

Frigga had heard him come, rising to her feet, and exclaimed as he entered. "Thor!" She rushed across the floor to him to embrace him tightly. He let himself feel comforted until she lifted her head from his shoulder to peer behind him. "Is Loki not with you?"

Stepping back, he held out his hand offering her the small ice statue. "He sent this for you."

She looked at it then at him, her brows drawing together. "He didn't come?"

His courage failed him, seeing her distress so marked on her face, and he could say only, "No."

"Oh." She took the statuette with care, standing it on her palm and bringing it with slow steps to the king's bedside where she set it on the narrow shelf that encircled the bed.

Thor joined her, and looked down. His father lay in the Odinsleep with the preservation field over him, barely a flicker of life remaining in him.

"Mother. What happened?" Thor asked, voice riven with dismay.

She fixed her eyes on the small statue, and she knew his true question. "I was so angry when I learned he had sent you both away," she murmured. "It seemed too much, too harsh, but he was determined you learn quickly. He had put off rest too long as it was, and it seemed you two were becoming less wise, not more."

Thor lowered his eyes, sickly shame rising in him, recalling how careless and foolish he and Loki had been. Frigga didn't notice, looking at Loki's gift, as she spoke. "When I saw Loki was taken, I told your father. He refused at first to do anything, saying it was Loki's due punishment for that guard's death and he would not intervene. So when I could, I sent the stone to you. But then, as Loki's torments increased, I begged your father to release the spell so at least he might heal and stay strong until you could find him. And the king tried. He did try, Thor. But it was too much, and he collapsed. I had to tend him. I took comfort in knowing you would soon reach Loki." She reached her free hand to lay over Odin's. "But after your father fell into the Odinsleep, Loki had to fulfill the binding condition on the spell himself. There was no other way to release it and return his Gift."

" _No other way_?" Thor repeated, incredulous and furious. "He almost _died_! My armor was awash in his blood. Mother, I felt his life-force fading away." Thor was glad to see her flinch and her lips parted.

"No! That could not be – I did not – he was not so hurt when I -" she protested, faltering in confusion and shock, but she rallied with a deep breath. "He survived. You came to his rescue, the mortals helped him, and now he has his Gift and powers back. Only a handful of days passed, my son, and for us, even the most difficult days pass to memory and fade to dust."

She said it as if Loki was well, not too affected by what had happened. "No!" The word emerged sharp as a dagger's edge. "They will not. Do you understand nothing?"

But his anger faded as he realized: she didn't understand because she didn't know. Unlike Thor, she hadn't seen the filmed tale of the Winter Angel or read the historical record about the Ice Demon to tell her what Loki had kept to himself. She didn't understand why a handful of days were so much more than that, or why her faith in Thor to rescue him had been such a terrible mistake.

He calmed himself and knelt on the floor next to her, hoping that Odin could, in some way, hear this too so he would understand what he had wrought. "Yes, it was a mere handful of days, and perhaps if it were more ordinary imprisonment, he would have endured well enough for me to reach him. But those days mirrored and reminded him of before, when he was on Midgard. Do you remember when he returned to us, bedraggled from the sea with a shadow in his eyes? Do you remember his words then? He said he spent a year in darkness, yet the next day he laughed and said all was well. That was a lie. The year in darkness was the truth, and nothing was well. He was held captive by a madman in the dark, and he suffered a year of torture and neglect that he pretended never happened, but it did. They bolted him to a table through his wrists and they hurt him, Mother." He made the same gesture he had seen Loki make for years, rubbing a thumb against the inside wrist of the other hand. Frigga's eyes followed the motion, and recognized it, face turning ashen.

"No..." she whispered.

He nodded. "I discovered the truth on Midgard. He lied to us for so long we believed him, but we should have insisted he tell us. We should have sought out the truth ourselves. But we did not, and so now these days, repeating what was done before, have broken what was cracked. Because, to him, we let it happen to him again. He was abandoned, again. He refuses to return." He thought of Heimdall who had seen and done nothing, and knew it was not only Odin that Loki was rejecting. Words she had once told him about Loki returned his memory and he added sorrowfully, "That foot he kept on the threshold, he has now withdrawn and he has slammed the door on Asgard."

Frigga's finger touched the figurine, and her face was pale with sorrow and regret. "And me?" she asked, voice soft. "Does he blame me?"

The truth was that of course he did. How could he not?

She saw the answer in Thor's expression, and her own crumpled with grief, eyes shutting tightly and lips pressed together, to hold back a sobbing breath from her throat.

"Mother..." he started helplessly, wanting to offer comfort, but not sure what he could say. She held up a trembling hand to stop him from trying, and pulled in a ragged breath to calm herself.

After a moment, she spoke again, watching Odin's still face. "When he first left us, he was angry and upset when we told him about how he came to us. Your father had said we should wait until he was older and could understand. But I thought he should know. We could not keep the truth a secret; it would come out eventually, and perhaps in a way we could not control. We meant to show that we loved him, and his blood made no difference to having him as our son. But the king was wiser than I. Loki didn't believe us and the truth sent him fleeing to Midgard. And he was gone for so long... I thought we had lost him forever." Her finger reached to trace the little figurine. "And I did. His body returned but his heart never did. It grew tangled with the mortals, and shadowed by loss. But he would still be here, if I had not insisted he know. He would still be your brother and my son, and he would not have learned so much pain and distrust. His heart would be whole if I hadn't insisted on breaking it with the truth."

"Mother, you don't know it would have happened that way. Perhaps everything would be worse," he suggested.

Her crooked smile was sad and vanished as quickly as it came. "I do not see how it could be worse. My son was hurt and I did not know. Now he has withdrawn from me, again, because he does not trust my heart." She wrapped the figure with her hand, as if she wanted to embrace it. The small motion of her rocking forward let Thor see the tears glinting in the light as they slipped down her cheeks. "And why should he? I failed him," she whispered, voice breaking, as she cradled the figure in her palms. "We failed him. We should have kept him safe. We should have protected him. And we didn't, and now he is lost."

"Mother, no." Thor wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. It was unnerving how _small_ she felt, huddled into his chest. "He's not lost. You speak as if he's dead, but he's alive. He's angry and he's hurt, but he lives. That means you and Father – all of us - we can still make things right with him."

Doubting his words, she shook her head against his armor, the brush of her hair soft on his neck.

"You can," Thor reassured her. "He sent you the statue as token of his affection. You may yet mend this." At least he hoped she could, since he didn't want to endure another century with his brother on Midgard and his parents in Asgard, pretending everything was all right.

She inhaled a deep breath and pulled back, calmer as she wiped her eyes with her draping sleeve. "Tell me all, Thor. Let there be no more secrets."

Glancing at his father's quiescent face, Thor began to relate the tale of his and Loki's time in exile.

* * *

... tbc...

...

one more chapter/epilogue to go in this one. :)


	22. Epilogue

**EPILOGUE**

 **.**

His first awareness was of his own breathing, slow and peaceful. His fingers twitched and he noticed they were moving and touching something soft.

Once he realized that, he knew he had been sleeping and now he was waking up.

Next he heard the quiet murmur of a baseball game on the radio...

He opened his eyes, blinking when his eyelids felt sticky and heavy, until he was able to see. Above him was a pale ceiling. Slow fan blades turning, hypnotically, around and around...

He was Steve Rogers, he remembered that.

That memory brought others: Schmidt's plane. Talking to Peggy on the radio. Saying goodbye.

The cold. Darkness.

There was nothing after that.

His muscles moved reluctantly, aching when he tried, but nothing hurt, which was surprising, because surely the crash had injured him. And, God, it had been so cold. He'd thought for sure he would freeze to death. He hadn't expected to wake up.

Apparently someone had found him and brought him... here. Wherever 'here' was.

A hospital? This felt like a hospital.

He slowly turned his head to see his surroundings. Maybe he could reach the radio and turn it up.

Lukas was there, sitting in a small chair by the side of the bed and reading from a book in his lap. Steve was not surprised to see him. When Lukas had jumped out of the plane after the tesseract, Steve had hoped he would survive and be rescued, which obviously he had. Then he had told the rescuers where the plane went down, which was why Steve was alive, too.

Lukas had shed the military trappings he'd worn while hunting Schmidt, and was wearing civilian clothes of a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up his forearms, and a green necktie. That long hair with a touch of curl to it was hanging in his face, and he hadn't noticed Steve was awake yet. Steve smiled; Lukas did tend to get absorbed in his books.

"What're you reading?" Steve asked, and had to clear his throat when his voice came out all scratchy like he hadn't spoken in a while.

Lukas' head snapped up and he turned to see Steve. "Steven! You awaken! How do you feel?" he asked anxiously, pale eyes fixed on Steve as if he looked away Steve might disappear.

Steve evaluated his physical condition. "All right. Tired. Achy. Nothing hurts though."

"Good, good, I'm glad," Lukas said. His tone was mild, but the way he was clutching his book between his hands and staring were making Steve concerned.

"Is everything okay?" Steve asked. "You seem a little… upset."

"No, I'm fine. I just… I thought…" His voice grew unsteady and his mouth worked without anything coming out. Until he drew a ragged breath and admitted, "I thought you were dead." His eyes gleamed with a sheen of tears he tried to blink back. "I thought - I thought I killed you."

The distress in his face was heart-wrenching and Steve sat up, reaching out for him. "No, no, that's not-"

"I should never have left you alone," Lukas whispered. "I was stupid and reckless and you- and I lost you, and it was my fault…" His face crumpled and he shut his eyes, bending down to hide his face in his hands, gasping for breath as the book thumped to the floor.

"Hey, no," Steve reassured him, "No, Lukas. It's okay, it's all right." Not sure what to do, he gripped Lukas' shoulder, rubbing in gentle soothing circles. It was worrisome that Lukas had believed he was dead - how long had he been unconscious? - but Steve waited him out, not trying to rush him into calming down.

He choked out, "It should have been me…"

"Hey, no, don't say that. It's not your fault, Lukas. I'm here, you're here – I'm glad you're all right." Lukas shook his head, long hair hanging down in his face, swinging with the motion, as he caught his breath. "It's okay, Lukas. You saved me."

"No, I didn't," Lukas insisted. He rubbed at his eyes and wiped his cheeks with his palms before lifting his head again. "You don't know, Steven. You don't know what's happened."

Steve frowned, not understanding. "Know what?"

Lukas glanced at the door, distress still drawing his brows together as he bit his lip. But he turned back, inhaled a settling breath, and told Steve in a level tone, "The year is 2011. You were preserved in the ice, asleep, for sixty-seven years."

Steve heard the words, individually he knew what they all meant, but together, he couldn't understand. 2011? How could it be 2011? "But- but you're here?" Steve said, as if it was some sort of proof that it was untrue. "You only look a little older..."

Lukas' eyes cut to him as if he objected to that observation, but he said only, "I don't age. They wanted to ease you into it, with a familiar face and familiar surroundings."

Steve's gaze traveled the room, looking for something out of place. But the lamp, the table, the radio – it was all what it should be. This had to be some sort of terrible joke. It was impossible, wasn't it? A year maybe, he could believe. Two. But sixty-seven? That was ridiculous.

Lukas read his doubt, and said, "Perhaps it is more confusing, than comforting, that I am the same. Can you stand? I will demonstrate time has passed. There are shoes on the floor."

Steve wasn't sure he wanted to know this, but he bent to look for the shoes.

The door opened and a woman dressed in a familiar women's uniform, rushed in and objected, "Mister Onsdag, you were not supposed to-"

"He needs to see the truth, not this pantomime," Lukas told her, rising to meet her at the door. "Out of the way, Agent Van Pelt."

She didn't move, confronting him. "Captain Rogers is not supposed to leave the facility."

"Captain Rogers is going to do what he wants," Lukas said. Before she could try to resist, he seized her upper arms, saying briefly, "Pardon me" and he set her down to the side. Steve opened his mouth to object, but Lukas turned to him. "Come, Steven, follow me. Can you run before they catch us?"

Steve met his eyes, remembering a run through the snowy woods. "I can."

"Follow me."

Steve's legs were a bit rubbery to start, but once the serum kicked in, he felt fine.

They hit the door together, slamming not only the door right off the hinges but the wall as well. It crashed to the floor, showing that he'd been inside a theater set, not a real hospital room at all. Outside, it was a large open air hall or hangar with a high ceiling. The massive glass windows rising several floors and visible steel girders were enough to tell him he was in the future.

"Captain Rogers!" Other people were shouting and running after them, and a few had weapons. Steve wanted his shield but didn't need it, since no one seemed intending to shoot at them, only stop them. But Lukas didn't stop, heading for a spacious lobby. The high glass wall allowed a view of the sidewalk and busy street outside, and people walking along tending their own business.

A metal net fell down across the entry door, but Lukas laughed as if it were nothing. "Give me your hand, Steven. "

So Steve did, as they ran straight at the glass wall. He braced to crash through, gritting his teeth against the impact, but instead... there was nothing. The air turned cold and weirdly colored, as if he was looking through a kaleidoscope, and then...

They were on the pavement outside.

Steve lost a step. Lukas had failed to reveal that particular talent. It was not quite as impressive as the fire coming off his hands on Schmidt's plane, but still, something that would have been useful to know.

But there was no time to be amazed, as Lukas told him with a grin, "They cannot hold us, Steven, if we wish not to be held. Follow me." They ran again.

The cars were different, but not so strange … traffic was similar on the street.

He followed Lukas, both of them running easily and swiftly on the sidewalk and crossing the traffic, vaulting as necessary to avoid aggressive cabs. But he wasn't paying attention to the signs, concentrating on the traffic and following Lukas, until he recognized where Lukas had brought him, and his feet stumbled to a halt.

Times Square. They were in Times Square.

It was a blinding display of lights and signs, fantastically tall buildings, too many cars... Too much. Too different.

He stayed on his feet, though his knees wobbled like he might crash to the ground, as he looked upward. He seized Lukas' shoulder, as the towering heights of the buildings and the flashing lights whirled and smeared with strangeness.

He looked into Lukas' face, glad to see something familiar. Lukas gave a brief smile, amused but understanding of his confusion as well. He gripped Steve's arm with a reassuring, solid connection of past and present.

"Welcome to the future, Steven."

 _the end._

* * *

The Ice Demon saga will continue in **_The Ice Demon and the Captain._**

 _In the aftermath, Loki and Steve deal with finding themselves in this strange new Earth, with the help of old friends and new family._

Summer/Fall 2016.


End file.
